The Stray Passenger
by WalkerWalkerChick
Summary: A dangerous supply run takes Rick's group out of Alexandria and back to the prison. Prepared for almost anything, Rick makes the unexpected decision to help a lone survivor he comes across, but he's not prepared for the impact this stranger will have on his life. For the first time since before the outbreak, he finds himself contemplating the forgotten idea of falling in love.
1. Chapter 1

Rick had been in Alexandria precisely two weeks when he began planning his departure.

The transition from life on the outside to life in Alexandria had been difficult to make, Rick still slow to trust anything and anyone in their newfound oasis. Even when their group had dispersed among the two houses and began sleeping in actual beds, they had not been able to relax for long. As they had all suspected, the Alexandrians were too sheltered for their own good. They hadn't seen what it was like on the outside, nor did they understand what had happened to the world. Deanna talked about the future, about the civilised society she wanted them to help her build, but Rick doubted she had been outside the walls since the day they were erected. Until she spent some more time outside, and began to understand the way in which the world worked, her dreams of civilisation were a fool's errand.

On the outside, Rick trusted her leadership. On the inside, he was biding his time.

But despite this, Rick had given Alexandria the seal of approval, encouraging his group to settle in and make themselves at home. They had all been given jobs to do, responsibilities they would be accountable for in order to pull their weight. Each of them had accepted their roles wholeheartedly, knowing that it was a necessary part of fitting in. Slowly, they settled in. Deanna's party, despite the frustration of actually having to attend and make small talk, had helped. Nevertheless, there was a distinct divide between the two groups, the Alexandrian's and those now affectionately known as the Grimes'.

A simple conversation was all they needed to remind them of the differences, of how sheltered these people were. It was difficult not to hold it against them, to not hate them for it. But behind their facade of lovely houses and nice meals, Rick knew that Jessie Anderson had been right when they talked the night of the party. These people had suffered loss too…still, it was difficult not to see the divide.

Daryl was a force unto himself. Coming and going as he pleased, Aaron was the only Alexandrian he spared more than a grunt of acknowledgement for. As Rick expected, Daryl spent more time outside the walls of Alexandria than inside. He preferred to hunt and keep an eye on the outside, rather than sit idle in a fancy house he would never really call his own. It was clear that Daryl was more comfortable outside, where he had already proven himself useful and necessary time and time again. Inside the walls he felt redundant, unnecessary. When he wasn't hunting, he tried to occupy himself looking after Judith, never complaining about her dirty diapers or incessant cries from cutting new teeth.

Carl too had struggled to settle in. Rick watched his son conflict with his new routine every day, grappling as he tried to find the balance between staying strong and allowing himself to actually live. Though he obediently went to school along with Ron, Mikey and Enid, he did so only to appease Rick. Just like Daryl, Carl was struggling to find his place in Alexandria. At fourteen, he was torn between being a boy and being a man, still figuring out how much of each he wanted to be.

The first day that their group had dispersed among the two houses, Rick had simply passed Carol his pack and asked her to delegate he, Carl and Judith where ever best suited. His only stipulation was that Judith be with him, wanting her close at night the way she always had been. When he had returned to the main house that afternoon, he had been surprised to find his few belongings in the master bedroom, Judith already napping in her portable crib. What surprised him most, however, was his son's hat on the other side of the king sized bed.

"Apparently we're sharing," Carl commented as he walked past the door. "I'm going to play pool at Mikey's…I'll be back by sundown."

It made sense on the surface that he and Carl share, especially with Daryl, Carol and Michonne occupying the other three bedrooms. However when Rick had asked Carol about it later, she quietly explained that Carl had requested they share. Rick didn't object to his son's request, knowing where it stemmed from. After living together on the road for so long, the idea of sleeping in a room alone must have felt foreign to Carl…it certainly felt that way to Rick.

The first night of Judith sleeping in a crib and not in his arms had been strange enough. Then in the master bedroom, Judith's crib against the wall was just too far away. When night fell Rick moved her crib right beside his bed, wanting to have her within arms reach. Spending so many weeks on the road, lacking a proper routine and internal clock, Judith tended to rouse in the middle of the night, alone and frightened in her crib. It hadn't taken long for Rick to develop the habit of bringing her into his arms at night, settling her into the bed between he and Carl. She wasn't used to sleeping alone, having not done so for quite some time. Rick preferred having his children sleeping close by, their synchronised breathing bringing him comfort in the darkness. Though he wouldn't mention it aloud, letting Carl pretend he was just going with he flow, Rick suspected he requested their arrangement for the same reason Rick hadn't protested it.

Overall, Rick had to admit things were going well, although there was one small exception. Barely a day inside the walls, Glenn had unintentionally started a power struggle between himself and Aidan Monroe, both men refusing to budge from their argument. Their first foray outside as a supply run group had not gone well, Aidan and Nicholas quickly making their negligence and poor attitude frighteningly obvious. It was clear to everyone who was right and who was wrong. Deanna had thanked Glenn for knocking her son on his ass…approval came in no clearer form than that.

But still the power struggle existed, Tara and Noah backing Glenn while Nicholas backed Aidan. It was two weeks of tense glares and loud venting behind closed doors before Rick finally put his foot down. For the sake of peace, Rick had told Glenn in no uncertain terms that he needed to make amends with Aidan, no matter who was right or wrong.

"All you have to do, is turn up with this," Rick told him, handing Glenn a bottle of Jim Beam. "It's a universal apology, without the apology."

"Olivia gave you this?" Glenn asked in awe, taking the bottle while Daryl eyed it reverently from the other side of the living room. "Why?"

"I asked her nicely."

"As if," Glenn quipped. "She won't give booze to anyone. You flirted."

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Rick looked around to make sure Carl wasn't in ear shot. "It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Now get Tara and Noah, and go get trashed with Aidan."

Eight hours later in the middle of the night, while Rick was awake with Judith, he had heard Glenn's return home. With Judith grumbling unhappily, Rick bounced her and rubbed her back as he paced the kitchen. He knew his little girl well…she either needed to puke or poop, she was just taking her damn time about it. Well rehearsed in the sick child scenario, Rick had everything ready. Cloths, a bucket, spare diapers…being unprepared was not an option. Just like her brother, Judith had proven herself to be adept at projectile vomiting. Feeling her unhappy tummy rumbling with gas, he patted her back as she started burping, large tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

Hearing a commotion outside, Rick had wandered over to the french doors and looked out onto the street. Seeing torchlight approaching, he draped a jacket around Judith and then stepped outside to see what it was. Smiling in amusement, he watched as Reg escorted three drunks home safely, Noah and Tara arm in arm as they staggered up the the gutter towards the second house. Glenn seemed only marginally better off, managing to walk on his own and help the others up the front steps. Shaking his head at them, Rick raised his hand to Reg in thanks, and then went back inside.

A few minutes later as he was helping Judith sip some soda water, he heard unsteady footsteps on the front steps announcing Glenn's arrival. He let himself in, their group seeing no difference in who each house belonged to, and he greeted Rick with an unsteady nod of the head.

"Hey," Glenn sighed, sinking into a stool at the island bench.

"Hey." Pouring him some soda water too, Rick passed it over to him. "Can I trust you with a glass, or would you like Judith's sippy cup?"

"Ha ha…"

"Something on your mind?"

Glenn groaned, taking a small sip and then groaning again. With his elbows on the bench, he rested his forehead in his hands. "Rick….I did something bad…something really bad…Maggie's gonna kill me."

"What did you do?" he asked in concern, worried. "You didn't make out with Aidan, did you?"

"No…oh God, I think she'd prefer that."

"Go on then."

Sighing, Glenn raised his head, frowning as he noticed Judith. "What's wrong with her?"

"Sick…Come on, tell me what you did."

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he began, trailing off with a drunk laugh.

"Glenn."

"Alright. You told me to make nice with Aidan. So I made nice with Aidan."

Rick looked at him expectantly. "What do you want? A pat on the back? Gold star?"

Pausing for a moment, Glenn grimaced and gave a low burp. "Aidan's talking about doing a supply run…I may have volunteered."

"Well, you are a supply runner."

"Yes…but this supply run is…what's the word I'm looking for?" he asked, looking at Judith. "Extended."

"How extended?" Rick asked suspiciously.

"A couple weeks."

Rick's stomach clenched at this, not liking it already. His first thought was to say no, to tell Glenn he wasn't doing it as though he were a teenager asking to go to the movies. He had to remind himself, and the others too, that being the leader of his group didn't mean he was their boss. They were grown adults, and could do as they pleased…but there was the unspoken understanding that if Rick asked them to do something, or to not do something, they would. The moment Glenn said a couple of weeks, Rick immediately wanted to tell him not to go, to withdraw his offer.

"Okay…where?"

This was when Glenn got coy. The amount of alcohol Rick could smell on him made lying more difficult, and he predictably looked away as he answered. "Just, you know…south."

"South where?"

"…Georgia."

Rick narrowed his eyes, coming to the conclusion himself. "To West Georgia Correctional Facility?" he asked angrily.

It was then that Judith puked.

Though he claimed parenthood had prepared him for all sorts of bodily fluids, Rick was forced to admit he couldn't handle the chain reaction that followed. Already cringing at Judith's puke through his hair and down his shirt, Rick drew the line as Glenn began puking too, Judith echoing him by filling her diaper with a loud, squelching poop. Covered in vomit and calling out to Carol for help, Rick's heart was somewhere in the bottom of his queasy stomach. He knew Glenn…even worse, he knew enough about Aidan. The idea was in their heads now…a supply run back to the prison would be in the works, and there was little Rick could do to stop it.

He and a bleary eyed Carol had made quick work of cleaning up the mess, finally settling a very apologetic Glenn onto the couch to sleep it off. Handing Judith off to Carol for a few minutes, Rick took a hasty shower and tried to think over what Glenn had told him, trying to understand the reasoning behind such an absurd suggestion. The prison was almost a thousand miles away. They had almost died trying to make it to Alexandria, and now Glenn wanted to repeat the journey there and back? Praying to God it was just a drunken idea they would all laugh about tomorrow, Rick redressed and returned to Carol, who was curled up on one of the arm chairs with Judith asleep in her arms.

It was the middle of the night, and the idea was probably nothing more than a drunken idea, but Rick found himself relaying it to Carol, needing to hear what she had to say. As Glenn snored on the couch, Carol listened with the quiet wisdom they had come to expect from her, agreeing with him in all the right places.

"I've heard talk about this," Carol said softly, stroking Judith's hair. Seeing that he was surprised, she gave him an apologetic smile. "I told you I'm invisible. Maggie was watching Judith while she worked with Deanna…I came to pick her up and heard Aidan and Nicholas talking it over."

"What were they saying?"

"That there're plenty of towns they've checked out. North Carolina is practically untouched, it fell in less than two days. They want more weapons, more food…equipment."

"And there's none of that left in Washington?"

"I'd say there's plenty left…but if they have the means…"

"They don't have the means. They have Aidan, Nicholas and Glenn."

"If Glenn goes, Tara and Noah will too."

"And they'll get themselves killed."

"Perhaps…maybe you should go with them. Make a proper go of this."

"No," he shook his head. "It's suicide. We're safe here…going back out there, we'd be risking everything."

"There's a lot to gain."

"What? Stuff…things?"

"We left a lot behind at the prison…aside from our supplies and weapons, there're all our personal things. Photo's of Lori," she concluded, gesturing down at Judith.

Rick glared at her. "Don't say that to Carl…he's upset enough about leaving behind her photograph as it is."

Carol just nodded. "There's something else there too, Rick."

"What's that, huh? What could possibly make it worth going over a thousand miles and risking our lives, just for some supplies we can get here?"

"Some of our people might have gone back to the prison. The Woodbury folk…Morgan."

Rick faltered at this, and it was clear by Carol's expression that she knew how close to home she had hit. Morgan, the man who had saved Rick from being eaten by Walkers the day he awoke from a coma…he could still be there, hiding out in King County. He pondered this for a moment, selfishness overriding every argument he had just made. A few minutes passed in silence, Rick not approving of the route his heart was taking him down. Not the slightest bit reassured, he took Judith into his arms and kissed her cheek as she roused.

"You weren't meant to convince me," he told Carol sternly, heading for the stairs.

"Sorry, Sunshine."

He had been in Alexandria precisely two weeks when he began planning his departure. The next morning Aidan and Nicholas answered the questions Rick put to them, even with sore heads and queasy stomaches. They explained every detail of the idea they had been planning for months. The only reason they hadn't put it into place was a shortage of people power. As a last ditch effort to nip this whole idea in the bud, Rick had turned to Deanna, hoping she would put her foot down and refuse to let her youngest son enact such a stupid plan. But she didn't, and was surprisingly in favour of it. Increasingly uncomfortable with it all, Rick requested a few days to think it over, having depended on Deanna to be the voice of reason and veto the whole idea.

The decision couldn't be made on his own. He wasn't that leader any more, and so he put the idea to the rest of the group. Letting Glenn take the lead, they had gathered in the main house and began discussions, seeking everyone's opinions. All in all it only took twenty minutes of discussion. It came as no surprise that Daryl's interest was aroused by their supply run, that he was the first to volunteer, and the only one to do so with enthusiasm. Working quickly and with ease, the group divided itself into two, ensuring that the strongest members went on the supply run, while still leaving appropriate strengths behind to continue protecting Alexandria. Finally the question of Rick's position came into question. Hoping he didn't come to regret this, he agreed that he too would go. If he was going to allow his group to put themselves in danger, he was going to be right there with them.

With the hardest decisions made, Rick had returned to consult with Deanna. There was no time to be diplomatic, and so Rick laid out his conditions.

"Abraham and Aaron are in charge of logistics…Aaron knows the roads and towns, where we can get gas. I am in charge overall," Rick told Deanna, Aidan and Nicholas, the four of them awkwardly standing in her living room. "Those are my conditions. Take them, or leave them."

"What about us?" Aidan asked, not hiding his annoyance. "What are we in charge of?"

"Nothing. You're guests."

Their reaction, though not unexpected, didn't further Rick's faith in them.

"It was our idea," Nicholas argued angrily. "It's our supply run."

"This isn't middle school. It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Rick told them. "If you want to go and do this on your own, I wish you luck. But if you want people power from my group, you'll be doing it my way."

"Seriously? That's it?"

"That's it."

Deanna intervened before they could argue any more, her skilled diplomacy keeping the peace. "I think Rick makes a very fair proposition. They're his people, so it's his call."

That conversation had been two weeks ago. Since then, their preparations had been almost non-stop, planning meetings running into the night. By the time their departure came, every member of the group knew exactly where they were going, exactly what towns they were passing through, where they would find gas, and what alternate routes they could take if they were taken by surprise.

They had departed three days ago, and were presently somewhere in South Carolina, not too far from the Georgia border. The leather steering wheel felt infallible under Rick's calloused hands, the vehicle a natural extension of himself. He felt peaceful behind the wheel, content to be in his preferred position, the driver's seat. Glancing at his son in the rear vision mirror, Rick was amused to see him fast asleep, his mouth gaping and his head lolled against the window. He had insisted on keeping Michonne company while on watch duty last night, still trying to prove himself useful on this supply run.

When the announcement had been made that Carl would accompany them on the run, most Alexandrian's had outright questioned Rick's sanity, not understanding why he would take his child out of a safe home and put him in danger. Rick hadn't bothered explaining himself, not to anyone outside of his group anyway. He hadn't come to the decision lightly, and frankly it went against everything he thought he knew as a parent. When discussion of the supply run had begun, Rick had carefully scrutinised Carl's reaction, knowing what he would see in his expression.

Excitement and desire crossed his face first, quickly followed by a sad realisation that he wouldn't possibly be allowed to go. Subsequent to that had been a resolute determination, a flicker of strong will and a plan coming to mind. Carl had played it smart, feigning disinterest even as Rick knew he was sitting at the top of the staircase eavesdropping on their conversations. From that day onward, Carl had been on the best behaviour of his entire life. Though he was generally well behaved in the first place, not one instruction was disobeyed, and not one hint of teenage rebellion surfaced. He even stopped scaling the walls and sneaking outside, a dangerous habit that Rick was well aware of.

Three days before their planned departure, when Carl's good behaviour had everyone who knew him well questioning his health, he finally cracked. Dropping the sandwich he was partway through eating, Carl had blurted out his request, startling everyone present.

"Dad, I want to go with you!" he practically shouted. "To the prison. I want to go….Please."

Having not expected him to hold out that long, Rick was secretly proud of how long he had lasted. "No."

"But I'll do whatever you ask me to do, and I'll be on my absolute best behaviour, ever!" he bargained. "I'll wear the riot gear when you tell me to, and I'll stay in the car when you want, and I won't ever run off, and…"

This had been his plan all along, to let Carl come up with his own negotiations in such a way that he saw them as bargaining tools, not restrictions. Unwittingly, Carl imposed the rules upon himself, not realising that Rick had already spoken to the others about Carl coming with them, seeking their approval. Knowing his son the way he did, Rick knew he couldn't leave him behind. Carl needed closure, a chance to say goodbye to his last home so that he could settle into his new one. Aside from that, Rick couldn't bear the thought of leaving without him. Knowing that Carl snuck outside the walls from time to time was a major factor. Though he would be safe left behind with the others, Rick couldn't ask them to be responsible for a teenager who continually put himself in harm's way. If Rick left him behind, he couldn't supervise him. Despite the risks of taking his child back out onto the road, the risk of leaving behind didn't feel significantly lower.

"…and if you tell me to run and hide, I will, Dad," Carl promised sincerely, completely abandoning his food. "If you tell me to leave you, and to save myself…I will. I promise."

Pretending to consider his request, Rick spoke four words that he knew would leave Carl hanging desperately. "I'll think about it."

Pulling on his Constable's blazer and kissing Judith goodbye, Rick had departed to make his rounds of the walls, giving Carl stern instructions to not be late for school. He had let Carl agonise over the decision until the day before their departure, when the two of them discussed the conditions of his blessing. Presently they were three days into a two week journey, and so far Rick had not come to regret his decision.

So far.

Leaving Alexandria had been more difficult than any of them anticipated, their group willingly splitting in half for the first time since they had started out for Washington with Eugene. Following Rick and Carl outside the gates were Daryl, Glenn, Michonne, Abraham and Rosita, needing to take their absolute strongest members. Though Carol would have liked to go with them, such a desire conflicted with her newfound persona of sweet den mother. Left behind, Carol carried on her role by taking Judith under her care.

Gabriel and Eugene had not been invited, and though he knew she was more than capable of handling herself, Rick had not been confident to take Sasha. Even now, behind the safety of Alexandria's walls, Sasha was unravelling, not coping with the losses of Bob and Tyreese. She was better off left behind, spending her days in the watch tower inflicting revenge on Walkers that came too close. Despite her apparent instability, Rick was confident in Sasha's ability to keep an eye on the place, knowing that she had Tara, Noah and Maggie who were also capable. At Rick's request, they too had stayed behind, not because they weren't wanted on the supply run, but because they were needed elsewhere. It was still a difficult concept to wrap his head around, that he was separating his group and taking them away from each other, Maggie and Glenn in particular, but a necessary decision that fell to him alone.

Thinking of Judith, he remembered about how difficult it was to finally relinquish her to Carol. As much as taking Carl with him went against his instincts, so too did leaving Judith behind. He knew Carol could care for her more than adequately, but the possibilities of all the things that may happen scared him. He might be killed during this supply run…or he might return to find Alexandria overrun, his precious daughter gone once again. With their vehicles ready to depart, Rick lingered with Judith in his arms, his nose buried in her sweet smelling hair.

"The smell of an infant is essential to maintaining the bond between parent and child," Eugene commented to Carl, who was saying goodbye to Tara. "It stimulates the reward centre in the brain the same way addictive drugs and sexual intercourse does."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this, wondering why Eugene was trying to ruin this moment for them. "Thanks Eugene…Carl's never going to smell his sister the same again."

"I apologise. I see now the latter remark may have been inappropriate in the presence of a fourteen year old. On the same note, Carl…if we were to blindfold your dad, and line up you, Ron and M-"

"We'll miss you too, Eugene," Carl smiled, giving him a quick hug.

They had departed soon after that, Rick not wanting to give Eugene any more opportunities to put his foot in his mouth. Taking one last moment with Judith, Rick kissed her cheek and passed her over to Carol, wondering how much she would change in the two weeks he was gone. She had just cut her third tooth the previous day…how many would she have when he returned?

So far their trip had been smooth, knowing that the roads in the immediate area were free of blockages and various other hazards. Aaron was generally accustomed to the various highways they were taking that trip, knowing what was blocked and what towns would have abundant gas left in their stations. Their route and optional detours were planned in advance. Assuming they travelled only during the day when visibility was greatest, they ought to reach the prison tomorrow afternoon, their fourth day.

Allowing for two to three days there to strip the prison and check out King County, the four day return trip should round them out at about eleven days. Deanna knew not to expect them any earlier than that. Although there would be no use worrying about something they couldn't control, it was an unspoken understanding that if they were much longer than that time frame, there was cause for concern.

Deep in thought about how he was going to break Judith away from her new security blanket, the ratty brown shirt he had worn on the road, Rick didn't hear Aidan's voice coming across the handheld radio. A dim thought in the back of his mind was briefly aware of it, but didn't push him to actually acknowledge that something had been said. Even as Abraham and Aaron replied to him from the other cars, Rick still didn't pay attention.

"Rick?" Daryl said, nudging him. Sprawled out in the passenger seat, his muddy boots up on the dashboard, he looked awfully comfortable. "You hear 'em?"

"Hear what?"

"What Aidan said…there's a person."

"What person?" he said dimly, looking at Daryl in confusion. "Where?"

"On the fucki-" Daryl began, gesturing wildly to the road. "Right there!" he shouted.

Looking around, Rick panicked as he saw a figure standing in the middle of the road ahead. In the back of his mind, the word person lingered, that being the only reason he didn't just run them over. Certainly it was safer to just hit them than to swerve and collide with a tree…but the knowledge dictated his actions on his behalf. Laying on the brakes, he swerved around the motionless figure and blessedly missed them, hitting the gravel on the side of the road. The tyres squealed loudly, dust kicking up behind them as he focused on maintaining the vehicle's trajectory, on making sure he didn't slam them all into a tree.

Coming up to meet the road again, he pulled the car back onto the centre line and brought it to a skidding stop, the occupants lurching in their seat belts. There were gasps and swearing as Glenn and Carl tried to orient themselves in the backseat, having awoken with a hell of a fright. Collecting his wits, Rick gripped the steering wheel and took a slow breath, unable to believe what had just happened, what he had managed to avoid. Glancing up into the rear view mirror, he observed the figure that still stood motionless, as if they hadn't just been almost hit by a car. Their stillness was the only indication that they were human, not a Walker.

Scrutinising their shape, Rick deduced that it was a woman, though it was difficult to determine what kind of state they were in. Unless his eyesight was beginning to fail him, the woman appeared completely filthy, covered head to toe in…in something. There was a brief moment when she lurched forward before freezing, as though trying to stop herself running towards them. The next thing she started moving, her movements slow and unsteady until she broke into a desperate run. Everyone in the car had turned back to look at her, watching as she drew closer. Letting the car idle, Rick glanced over at Daryl.

"Aidan said not to pick her up," he commented, his expression neutral.

"Aidan's not in charge," Rick commented, turning around to look at Glenn now. "We are."

Trying to gauge their thoughts, he looked between Daryl and Glenn, needing to know what they were thinking. Rick was no stranger to ignoring people who needed him, he had done so many times over. But that didn't mean he had to make a habit out of it. Looking at the stranger, who was alone and without hope, Rick felt torn…he didn't know what to do. His hand reached for the door handle and then stopped, part of him reluctant to help her. They were three days into a dangerous supply run. They didn't need complications.

"Dad," Carl interrupted the heavy silence. He looked at his father from the back seat, his eyes wide. "We can't leave her."

Pride for his son surged inside him, knowing how kindhearted he was. He never shied away from trying to help other people. He remembered the days before Terminus, when Carl so desperately wanted to save that man being swarmed by Walkers, recalling the disappointment in his eyes when he and Michonne had dragged him away. Then there was Gabriel, and the way Carl insisted on running to his screams without regard for his own safety. Even though it was dangerous, even though it could one day get him killed, didn't Rick want his son to be like that? Herschel's question of what he wanted his son's life to be lingered in his mind every day. Didn't he want his son to care about other people the way he did now?

"Stay in the car," he instructed him, coming to a decision. Sharing one last glance with Daryl and Glenn, who showed no hint of protest, Rick opened his door. He stepped out and looked back, drawing his gun by his side as he looked at the woman.

She skidded to a stop, her whole body lurching forward with the momentum. Seeing what he held in his hands she immediately tensed up, her shoulder's hunching in fear. There was a long moment where the two of them just stared at each other until she lurched backwards, taking a few steps away from him. Her fear of him was evident, and she was clearing wondering what her glimmer of hope had gotten her into.

"Don't be afraid," Rick said calmly, trying to put her at ease.

His words seemed to reassure her. Shoulders that had been tense and hunched relaxed a fraction, before a moment later she relaxed with a long, slow breath. He watched as she seemed to come to a realisation, perhaps her mind slowly catching up with reality. After three other cars had passed her, someone had stopped.

Wondering what would happen next, Rick prayed he hadn't made a bad call.

* * *

The woman had been laying on the forest floor for almost two days now, a trance like state rendering her immobile. Completely motionless, her wasted body gave little indication that it was in fact living, that the heart inside continued to beat. It was too difficult to do anything else, too cruel to continue pushing her body when she had nothing to reward it with.

These days, all she did was wander. A pair of legs and a heartbeat, she made her way through the woods as best she could, her thoughts rarely wavering deeper than the need for food and water, any amount of which she could scrounge up. She had passed through towns and holed up in farmhouses, eating anything she could chew, even a lone can of cat food on more than one occasion. Though meagre and degrading, it had sustained her…but that's all it was. Sustainment. Her body was alive, her heart still pounding and her legs still carrying her, but there was nothing left of her.

She no longer possessed much concept of time, not paying attention to when the sun rose and fell. All she knew was that she had wandered these woods for months now. She had stopped counting the days, each one of them filled with the same lonely despair. Not even the weather served to indicate the passing of time. Each day and night were as cold and bleak as the one before it.

Laying there in the dense undergrowth of the woods, she reminded herself that it hadn't always been like this. She hadn't always wandered the woods day after day, completely abandoned by human kind. Even after the outbreak that had seen the dead rise, she had friends…some of whom she might even have called family. But now, being in complete solitude, she didn't think of them. Her mind, protecting itself from the agonising grief she wasn't ready to feel, never let her stray into thoughts deeper than the need for food and water. Despite this, the facts remained, carefully examined on the rare occasion that she found her head clear enough.

She was alone…everyone was gone.

Before this, she used to think about her old life often, amused by how frivolous and silly her problems had been. But now she could hardly remember her life before the outbreak at all, feeling as though it had belonged to someone else. She supposed it had. The person she had once been….that person was gone, just like so many others. Except she wasn't. Not really. She had just changed, metamorphosing into someone else entirely. She didn't recognise the woman that she had grown into after the outbreak…nor the woman she was now.

Her mouth was dry and sticky, the last drop of moisture she had received coming from a heavy downpour of rain the previous night. Within arms reach was her bottle of murky water, ready and available for her to drink. But she made no motion to pick it up, to provide her body with what it needed. In that moment, a scene flashed before her eyes as clear as if she had been there herself.

Your body can endure almost anything. It's your mind that needs convincing.

It was a motivational slogan, painted onto the wall of her too-expensive health club. Remembering it with grim satisfaction, she finally understood it's application. Her body endured no matter what, refusing to give up, refusing to let her die, and she knew now why she had survived so long. Her mind had closed itself down, shutting out all emotion and existing in a state where very little conscious thought occupied her time. Soon after losing the last member of her group, when she had found herself completely alone, she had simply stopped feeling. If she were forced to comprehend the true reality of what she had gone through, of what she had lost, she would have died months ago.

She had known for quite some time how to protect herself from Biters, how to hide the scent of a living body…she had only ever done it once before. But finding herself completely alone, with only a few meagre supplies pillaged from an abandoned car, she had no choice. Needing to protect herself, she had plunged her hands into the first rotting corpse she could find, smearing the blood and gore over her body as she tried not to puke the only food she'd eaten in days.

Acting without thought, she had covered herself in rotting flesh, spreading the revolting mess over her skin and clothing, and then finally through the blonde hair others had once admired so greatly. Her transformation took only minutes, though getting used to it took days. It worked of course. So long as she moved slowly and didn't make much sound, the Biters walked straight past her, or even along side her on many occasions. It hadn't taken long for her to realise what she had done to herself, to see that she had become nothing better than the monsters she fled from.

It was then that she started to shut down, needing to protect herself from what she had become. She stopped seeing herself as a person, knowing that just like the Biters, she wandered without purpose, seeking only that which would sustain her body. The weight of reality was too great to bear, too great to face. Just as the poster as her gym claimed, it was her mind holding her back, not the physical limitations of her body. Being completely mindless allowed her to sustain herself, to become nothing more than a set of legs and a heart beat. She didn't think…she didn't feel…she didn't dream. She just walked. On and on she went, trudging through the woods as days and nights came to pass.

In her brief moments of clarity, there was one thought that kept her going, one possibility that gave her a slither of hope in the awful darkness she had come to know as life. She needed someone…a person…a human being. Anyone would do. Covering herself in rotting flesh, spending the days walking among Biters who could turn on her at any moment, she felt completely inhuman. How could she not? She hadn't seen a single person in months…not since that particular night she tried not to think about.

Finding another person became her one beacon of hope, her one motivation to keep going. Though her mind continued to glaze over, her moments of conscious thought were filled with the desire to reconnect, to find comfort and intimacy with another human being. But even as this beacon of hope shone for her, guiding her to keep going, darkness was never far away. She was never going to find another person…there was no one left for her. After all, she hadn't seen a single person in months…What if she was truly alone in this world? What if there was no one else out there?

This was the dark thought that had brought her sinking to the ground days ago. In a brief moment of lucidity, the enormous weight of her loneliness came crashing down on her. The possibility that she might never find another person became all too real. Unprepared to handle such thoughts, her knees buckled and she fell to the ground where she stood.

There were incremental stages of surrender.

That day, she succumbed to everything. The notion of getting back to her feet and carrying on was non-existent. What would be the point? Why was she struggling if there was no end goal? She had nothing left inside…had nothing left to offer. She wanted to just lay there on the forest floor and and let nature take it's course. Death would be a blessing. Even if she were torn apart by Biters, she would finally be finished with this world. Stuffing her filthy hands into her mouth, she had sobbed for what felt like hours, exhausting what energy she had left until she fell unconscious. Sleep didn't grace her anymore…there was only conscious and unconscious, and she knew which one she preferred.

When she had next roused, it was raining heavily. Her mind had already reverted back to the blank slate of indifference she needed to survive. No longer possessing conscious thought, she allowed her body to act for her. As big, fat droplets of water fell onto her face, she slumped over onto her back and opened her mouth, capturing the falling rain to relieve her dehydration. Though her mind had surrendered, her body was not letting her give up.

Time progressed, the sun rising for a second time as she lay there on the forest floor, completely motionless. To her distress, she felt the cloud around her shoulders lifting, her mind allowing her to start thinking again. The rain had stopped. She was dry. That much she was able to comprehend as she rolled back onto her side and curled up, putting her thin hand underneath her cheek. Her vacant eyes stared at the root of a bush a few feet away, taking in the various textures and colours she could see. Time progressed a little more, and just as she felt herself slipping into another daze, something roused her again.

Still staring at the root of the bush, she listened as a Biter came shuffling her way. No doubt aroused by the change in light, Biters were always particularly active in the first few hours after dawn. Nevertheless, she was indifferent to its presence. It had been a long time since she had been afraid of Biters. At the start of the outbreak, everyone's focus had been on protecting themselves from the dead ones, on finding somewhere safe to lie low. Feeling her heart clenching, she remembered that it wasn't Biters she was afraid of. As much as she longed for human contact, it was them she feared.

Laying there in surrender, she was actually disappointed that the Biter didn't pay her any attention. Caked in blood and gore, it wouldn't notice her unless she made a sudden movement to attract it's attention, to indicate that she was in fact, alive. In spite of her earlier desire to have Biters descend on her and tear her limb from limb, she stayed still and waited for it to pass. Except today, it didn't.

Oblivious, the Biter bumped into the back of her ankle and tripped over. It landed heavily beside her, snarling and thrashing around as it tried to orient itself. Looking at it blankly, she observed the sunken features and bulging eyes. It wasn't all that old…a fresh one. In a moment that was bad luck and nothing more, the Biter looked straight at her, it's dead eyes flickering with interest. Though she saw the exact moment that it realised what she was, she was slow to act. It had already reached out for her, its hand clumsily smacking her cheek before she plunged her knife through the eye.

Laying there, she stared into the vacant eyes of death and relished the feel of the dead hand on her face. She remembered a time long ago, when in a life that didn't belong to her anymore, she would wake beside the man she expected to spend the rest of her life with. His hand had caressed her cheek just like the Biter's did, and she allowed herself to find comfort in this. Reaching up, she cradled the dead hand as though it actually belonged to her ex-husband, stroking the fingers tenderly. For the first time in months, she smiled.

Her moment of comfort was quickly broken, a small white maggot wriggling out of the ocular cavity she had just pierced. She watched it's progress down the Biter's face and onto the ground beside her, still wriggling and squirming. Looking back to the Biter now, she desperately tried to recapture the feeling she had only moments ago, needing that comforting thought of another person. But just like a pleasant dream that ended too soon, the comfort was gone.

For the first time in a while, she felt a flicker of will to live. The comfort she had found just then…she wanted that. She wanted it desperately, so much in fact that she found the strength to do something about it. Moving tentatively, she got to her feet after almost two days on the ground. Her body felt strange and foreign, as though her feeble limbs had never truly been hers. The tall, curvaceous shape she had once been proud of was gone these days, no longer attracting the attention and smiles of men everywhere. These days, her feeble body only attracted the attention of Biters and the type of men who didn't want to take her on a date. Struggling to her feet, she slowly stood up and looked down at herself, still unable to comprehend the metamorphosis that had occurred.

She didn't let herself think about it for too long. Taking her pathetically small knife back from the Biter, she made sure to smear some of the blood across the front of her neck. It had rained as she laid there on the ground, possibly diluting her only protection. Without thinking, she reached down and stuck her hands into the Biter's open chest, generously coating them in gore before anointing herself with it. She worked quickly, smearing blood across her collar bones and the sleeves of her thin sweater, finally working the last of it through her hair again.

Satisfied, she wiped her hands on the front of her jeans as best she could and then picked up her bottle of dirty water. Letting her mind drift back to nothingness, she slowly set off again, trudging through the undergrowth at a slow pace that let her blend in further with the Biters. Long ago she had lost the desire to run, to exert herself the way she used to back when she was human, not the monster she was now. Central Park…she jogged through Central Park on the weekends…with her friends. Clinging to that memory, she reminded herself that she had once existed as more than what she was now, that beneath the exterior she wore to protect herself, she had once been a person. She couldn't often remember that person…but for a few moments she might.

Another memory occurred to her, one of a phone call she hadn't returned. She used to think about that phone call often, but rarely since she had been on her own. Letting the memories flood back, she remembered her assistant looking into her office, informing her that her mother was on line three. By the time she had finished her conference call she was on, her mother was gone. Too busy, she hadn't called her back. Thinking about this again, she frowned as she tried to remember her mother's name. The mere concept of her mother was strange to think about, but the idea that she had a name was even stranger. The memories too painful to dwell on, she let her mind wander back to nothingness.

The morning dew left the leaves dripping wet, and she took frequent advantage of this. Her hands too filthy with Biter guts, she awkwardly sucked any amount of moisture she could get straight off the leaves, constantly looking at the trunks of each tree. Sometimes, if there had been rain, she would find a small trickle of water from which she could drink. Today though she continued to go thirsty, conserving the dirty water in her bottle for a time when she was even more desperate. God knew she had seen worse times that the present. Only a week ago she had been so dehydrated she couldn't even cry, her mouth dry and sticky as she sobbed in despair. She had depended solely on the morning dew until she came across a deep puddle on the ground, and she had finally been able to refill the almost empty water bottle she carried with her.

Shuffling through the undergrowth, she looked down at her filthy hands. She started picking at the dried blood on the back of her left hand, peeling it off and exposing the skin underneath. Trying to find connection to the person she used to be, she scratched out the letter C, wondering if she would ever have reason to use her name again. Looking at it as she walked, she admired the shape of the letter, having never appreciated the beauty of the simple curve that started her name.

Not letting her thoughts run much deeper than that, she lowered her hands and focused on where she was going, flinching each time the blisters on her left foot accidentally touched something rough on the ground. Large and painful, she wished she could drain the fluid…but she had nothing clean to wrap the open wounds with, and nothing clean to actually pierce the skin. Though she had only a basic understanding of how the Biter's infection truly worked, she knew it could be transmitted through broken skin. If she had an open wound, her filthy hands were more of a threat to herself than the Biters.

Not paying enough attention, her thoughts always wandering off or going completely blank, she was surprised to find herself on the side of a road. Slowly coming to a stop, she looked at it blankly, feeling completely detached from what it meant to her. It had been weeks since she had seen a road. Growing desperate in her search for water, she had headed into the woods for a short while, only to find herself disoriented when night fell faster than she expected it to. She had been lost then, wandering around the woods without purpose, without progress.  
Stepping onto the road, she moved to the centre and looked at the white dotted lines. These lines had kept her steady for so long, guiding her down the road like a child following their parent. Without thinking, she planted her feet on either side of the white dotted line and looked down at it, her mind peaceful. She felt a strange emotion, one that took her a while to remember the name of.

Relief.

She hadn't felt relief for a long time. Pondering it, she stood stock still and kept looking down at the line, letting her mind wander again. Still thinking about that phone call she hadn't returned, she tried again to remember her mother's name…but it had been too long. As it had been for weeks now, her mind was too empty. She didn't quite know how long she stood there, but by the time she was next aware of herself, the sun had risen high, warming the back of her neck even as the cool breeze chilled her. Still looking at the white line between her sneakers, she took note of her shadow…it was mid morning.

Raising her head, she let the warmth of the sun caress her cheeks, remembering how much she used to love the outdoors. Though she loved her career…whatever it was, it kept her cooped up in a fancy office building. In her old life, fresh air and sunshine had been her crux, something she looked forward to. Thinking back to Central Park, and the jogging club she had frequented, she tried to remember how it felt…to be outside and not hate it the way she did now. It must have been different back then…it must have been beautiful.

A distant rumbling broke her from her thoughts, making her lower her face. The sloping rode broke into a crest, and there was no doubt in her mind that the distant rumbling on the other side was in fact, a car. As this dimly registered, she found herself moving backwards, her body acting automatically to move her out of harm's way. Relocating to the side of the road, where gravel met the asphalt, she raised her eyes up the slope of the road to watch the top of the crest, waiting.

A short while later a car emerged over the crest, it's engine echoing in the silence as it came flying towards her. With detachment, she watched as the grey minivan swerved a little, the driver clearly startled to see someone standing on the side of the road. Seconds later it passed her, quickly growing smaller with each moment. She laughed bitterly. Only a short while ago she had longed for the company of another person, needing human contact more than she needed water, and yet she found herself immobile. She should be running after them, waving her arms and using her voice for the first time in months…but she didn't. Still stuck in the trance like state that had occupied her for so long, she simply watched as it soared by.

It didn't matter anyway. What would she say to them if they did stop? Did her voice even work anymore?

Moments later a second car emerged over the top of the crest. A red sedan hurtled towards her now, and though it didn't swerve in surprise, it seemed to slow down a little as it passed her. Only mildly interested, her gaze followed as it passed her, hoping to catch the glimpse of a face. If she couldn't have human contact, then she would make do with just someone to look at, a face to memorise and cling to in her darkest moments. But just like always, she was robbed of this opportunity, the red sedan passing her and then speeding up again.

Just as she was about to sink down to the ground, another vehicle emerged, this one larger than the first two. A removal van with a business name "Two Men and a Truck" on the side, came soaring past her too. Just like the others, it was gone before she could catch a glimpse of the driver, before she could find the mental strength to raise her arms in a wave, to make her legs move and start chasing them down.

In utter disbelief, she finally was able to move. Watching as the removal truck disappeared around the bend, her feet slowly shuffled her back to the middle of the road where she stood and waited. She wondered if one of them would come back for her…if they were the type of people who would help her, or take advantage of her. She had come to know both types of people, the latter with startling familiarity.

Thinking back to the various people who had taken advantage of her over the last eighteen months, a small part of her didn't care who the people in the cars were. Letting her mind wander again, she imagined a scenario in which the three cars did some back for her. It didn't matter who they were, or what they wanted, she would go with them. She would do what ever they asked. She would get down on her knees for them. She would take off her clothes for them…anything.

Just as the thought occurred to her, she found herself spinning around, her instincts rousing her again. She didn't hear the fourth car until the last minute, the engine of this one quieter and less obtrusive on the silence that was her only friend. By the time she spun around it was almost too late. The large silver car was closing in on her, and in a moment that startled her more than anything had in weeks, she welcomed it to hit her. It would be quick, she told herself…she could finally stop.

But in a sick twist of fate, the car swerved and missed her, robbing her of a quick and painless death. Standing motionless, she turned on the spot and watched as the large car hit the gravel on the side of the road, dust blooming in an enormous cloud until the squealing tyres finally met the asphalt again. The driver slammed on the brakes and brought the car skidding to a stop, the rear brake lights shining like rubies.

There was a long moment in which nothing happened. Watching the car that sat motionless on the road ahead of her, she slowly came around to the idea that it had stopped. The cloudy fog that hovered around her head began to lift, making her feel as though she had literally just been placed back into the world again, like she was back in control. She could almost think now, could take decisive actions. A second later something inside her snapped…remembering what she wanted, that what she most desperately needed was human contact, she lurched forward hesitantly.

Taking the greatest leap of faith in her life, she began to run. It had been so long her legs almost didn't remember how to move with such speed, and she stumbled a few steps before she broke into a proper stride. The car sat idle, its red brake lights taunting her about how close it was. A long moment passed, her legs taking her closer and closer until something finally happened. The driver's side door opened, a tall figure stepping out and looking back at her.

Close enough to see the large silver gun the figure drew, she skidded to a stop, her whole body lurching forward with the momentum. Her mouth dropped and she looked at the gun in fear, wondering if they were going to kill her. It would be a cruel twist of fate, that her hopes be raised right before death welcomed her into his arms. There was a long moment, the man and the woman staring at each other. Panicking, she took a few steps back.

"Don't be afraid."

His voice was deep and smooth, his words flowing through her like a warm melody. Stopping, she looked at him reverently, waiting for him to speak again, for the few simple words he had spoken warmed her heart. He was real…he was an actual person. In the brief moment that they looked at each other, she could feel his eyes roving over her body, not to measure what he could take from her, but to assess her condition.

Recognising this as concern, she nearly fell over in disbelief, barely able to comprehend what it meant. This man was looking at her…truly looking at her. In that moment, she felt the burden lift from her shoulders, her mind bursting open like a flower that had waited all spring to finally bloom. She was waking up now…purely because someone was looking at her.

All it took for her to feel human, was for someone to look at her like one.


	2. Chapter 2

"Don't be afraid," he said calmly, trying to put her at ease.

Rick's words seemed to reassure her. Shoulders that had been tense and hunched relaxed a fraction, and a moment later she relaxed with a long, slow breath. He watched as she seemed to come to a realisation, perhaps her mind slowly catching up with reality. After three other cars had passed her, someone had stopped.

He was uncomfortably aware that the others were still travelling ahead of them, and he hoped Daryl had the thought to radio them. Considering the woman before him, he carefully scanned her from the top of her head to the sole of her feet, taking note of her loose clothing and protruding collar bones. She wore only a pair of worn out jeans and threadbare sweater. Her light brown hair was matted, her skin and clothing covered in what he presumed to be Walker guts. In her grungy hands she clutched a bottle half filled with murky brown water, her fingers digging into the flimsy plastic as though she were going to drop it.

Behind him, a door opened suddenly, Daryl welding his crossbow as he stepped out. He stalked off down the road and took aim at a Walker, the bolt taking it down with a dull thud. When the car doors opened for a second time, Rick tried not to roll his eyes when Carl stepped out, quickly followed by Glenn who was scolding him. Turning back to the woman, Rick shifted his weight a little, but did not holster his gun.

"Are you alone?" he asked her.

There was a long moment before she answered, making Rick question her truthfulness. Nevertheless, she looked him straight in the eye when she nodded in confirmation.

"There's no one else out here with you?"

She shook her head this time.

His instincts trusting her answer, Rick holstered his gun and turned back to the car. He opened the trunk and looked at her over his shoulder, watching her reaction. As he began rummaging, shifting bags aside, she took another step back, distrustful. Rick understood. He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on Aaron, the absolute certainty he felt that his group were being led into a trap. Trusting another person after going through so much was difficult. Finding what he wanted, he turned around and presented her with a bottle of clean water.

The look on her face was practically comical, her eyes widening in disbelief. He critiqued her expression, seeing that she was torn between the need for clean drinking water, and her mistrust of him. She looked at the water, her hands clenched into fists as though stopping herself from reaching out for it. There was a long moment, the woman's thin fingers clenched around her current bottle of murky water. Recalling Judith's hungry cries and Aaron's jar of apple sauce, Rick opened the cap of the bottle and took a drink, demonstrating that it was safe to drink. Replacing the cap, he held it out to her again, raising his eyebrows when she didn't immediately take it.

Very slowly, she reached out and took the bottle from him. She held it in her hands, looking at it in disbelief. Relieving her of the other bottle, Rick stepped back and gave her some space. He tipped out the dirty water onto the road and then tossed the bottle into the trunk. He watched from the corner of his eye as she gratefully drank the clean water, her whole body trembling with relief. Being patient, Rick put his hands into his pockets and glanced over at the others. Daryl hovered a few yards back, keeping watch, while Glenn and Carl stood side by side near the car. Rick could tell his son was positively itching to step forward, wanting to talk to this woman, but as he had this entire trip, he toed the line.

"Take it easy," Rick instructed, seeing her coughing. "We've got plenty."

Swallowing, the woman looked at him gratefully, her chest heaving. "Thank you," she said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was hoarse, barely audible.

"You're welcome," he replied, the words automatic. "What's your name?"

The woman hesitated again, glancing between each of the four strangers. "Carlene-" she stopped herself, cringing. "Carrie."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "Which is it? Carlene or Carrie?"

Her jaw shook a little, her eyes still darting between them. "Carlene…but I go by Carrie."

Rick smiled to himself, glancing at Carl. Carlene is what Daryl had taken to calling him, at least before he allowed Jessie to cut his hair. "I'm Rick," he introduced himself. "That's Glenn and Carl. Daryl."

Carrie nodded, her hands clutching at the bottle of water. There was an awkward silence in which Glenn cleared his throat, indicating his wrist to Rick. They were wasting precious daylight.

"How long have you been out here? Alone, I mean."

"Alone?….The last date I remember is November."

"That's four months," Rick mused, looking her up and down again. "Where's your stuff? Your things?"

Licking her lips, Carrie indicated to herself. "I lost my bag a few weeks back…"

"You've got nothing?" Rick asked skeptically.

Carrie shook her head.

"You got any weapons on you?"

She nodded this time. "A knife."

Ready for anything, Rick watched as she pulled her only weapon from the pocket of her jeans. Her hands trembling, Carrie slowly handed him a blood encrusted knife. Taking it from her, Rick looked at it in disbelief, forcing himself to not laugh out loud. It was tiny…a children's knife. He looked over at Glenn and Carl, seeing their mouths agape.

"You've been gettin' around for four months…with a Dora the Explorer knife?" Rick questioned, his tone turning harsh. "How?"

Carrie cleared her throat, still clenching her hands around the water bottle. "I - I haven't had to use it too much." She gestured down at herself. "The, uh…blood keeps the Biters away. So long as I move slow, they don't bother me."

Accepting this, Rick turned back to the trunk of the car and slipped the dirty knife into a side pocket. He and Glenn shared a look, one that conveyed a great deal without words.

"You got any other weapons on you? A gun?"

"No."

"Can I check?"

Her hesitation was clearly evident. No doubt she didn't want a strange man's hands all over her, but perhaps she was desperate enough, for she slowly nodded her consent. He came and stood behind her, keeping his touches methodical and necessary. She flinched the moment his hands touched the top of her shoulders, and he felt her chest heaving as he patted her arms and sides down. Despite all that he had seen, Rick felt his stomach twisting as his hands worked, feeling her ribs and hips beneath her filthy clothing. She clearly knew what it was to go hungry. Vividly he thought of Lori, remembering the way her body drained every ounce of unnecessary fat to support her pregnancy. Despite Rick and the others sharing their rations, Lori's body had wasted away just as Carrie's appeared to have.

Getting his mind back on track, he grasped her ankle and slowly lifted her right foot, wanting to check her shoes. Well practiced in this manoeuvre, he gripped her other leg just above the knee, helping her balance as he took her shoe off. He looked inside and then checked the sole of the shoe, finding no where that she could hide anything sharp. As she slipped the shoe back on, she swayed a little, overbalancing. Carl immediately started forward, wanting to help her. Rick immediately shook his head, a quick look making his son back away. Even if she was unarmed, he didn't want his son too close to this woman. Wanting this over, he removed her other shoe and looked inside, flinching at what he saw.

The front half of the sole had almost completely worn away, exposing the foot inside to the rough and unforgiving terrain. With a short sigh, he gently lifted Carrie's foot, seeing large angry blisters on the sole. Without saying a word, he gently slipped her shoe back on and then stood up, moving back in front of her. Daryl was sitting in the passenger seat now, the radio held up to his mouth as he spoke to the others. There was a long moment of awkwardness, no one knowing what to say next. Finally Daryl got out of the car and joined them, his crossbow still by his side.

"They've stopped a mile up the road," he told Rick quietly.

"Aaron?"

Daryl shrugged, glancing at Carrie. "He ain't celebratin'…"

Rick nodded, clearing his throat as he looked back to Carrie. The decision had already been made…knowing what state this woman was in, to abandon her now would be to leave her for dead.

"I have to ask you some questions," he informed her. "Just three."

She nodded.

"How many Walkers have you killed?" he asked, clarifying when she frowned. "Dead ones."

"Lots…"

Rick nodded. "How many people have you killed?"

Her expression fell. "People?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Yes. How many people have you killed?"

Carrie hesitated, glancing between each of them. She swallowed nervously before she slowly answered, her voice barely audible. "Four."

Rick was unsurprised. "Why did you kill them?"

"Two of them were bit," she said, her tone defensive. "They asked me to."

"And the others?"

"One was an accident," she confessed, her voice shaking. "It was dark, and we were fighting off Biters."

"And the fourth?"

"It was self defence."

Rick sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "That's for me to decide. Why did you kill them?"

Carrie bit her lip, clearly unwilling to answer. "Back in November, it was just me and one other…a group of men attacked us. Said they'd 'claimed' us…"

As she trailed off, Rick and Daryl shared a look. They were uncomfortably familiar with the group she seemed to be describing. Rick glanced at Carl, seeing that he was giving Carrie his undivided attention.

"…he took me off…he was going to rap…" Carrie trailed off, noticing Carl's devout attention. "I managed to grab a rock, and I got away."

Carl came forward, standing next to Rick. "Those men…were they like a gang or something?"

To Rick's surprise, Carrie glanced at him before answering, as though requesting permission to talk to the youngest member of their group. He nodded, wanting to hear her answer.

"Yeah…they looked like bikies."

"Was one of them a real big guy?" Carl pressed her.

Carrie nodded slowly. "Maybe…I think there was a big guy…"

Confirming the connection, Carl was shocked. No doubt he was remembering that night, an attack that two months later, he still dreamed about.

"Do you want to come with us?" Rick asked her outright, no longer wasting time. He watched as hesitation flickered across her face, and so continued. "You don't have to…We can give you a pack, some food and water. You can keep going alone, if that's what you want."

Carrie wrung her hands around the water bottle, but Rick could tell she was a little more at ease. Her shoulders were relaxed, and she stood a little straighter than she had when they had first spoken.

"What would I have to do…you know, to earn my keep?" she reluctantly asked.

Rick knew what she was getting at. "Nothing like that."

"We're not like them," Carl added, making Rick wish his son didn't understand what they were talking about. "You'll be safe with us."

Reassured, Carrie nodded. "I'll go with you. Please."

Her answer given, Rick nodded. He placed his hand on Carl's shoulder as he turned around and looked into the trunk of the car. Taking Carl's pack he started rummaging through it, looking at the clothing and then back up at Carrie. Anything belonging to he, Daryl or Glenn would be far too big on her frame. He removed a pair of Carl's jeans and then sized Carrie and Carl up, comparing them. He took an empty satchel and stuffed Carl's jeans, his clean shirt and a pair of underwear inside. There was no need to ask Carl for permission…when something was needed, it was shared freely. The clothing wasn't ideal, but nothing these days was. Finally he chose one of their unused towels and a dry wash cloth, stuffing them in too. At the last minute he grabbed the bottle of liquid soap Carol had packed for them. Slinging the satchel over his shoulder, he rounded to the back passenger door and retrieved two gallon bottles of water.

"You're going to have to clean yourself up," he told her, gesturing to the woods. "You've got to make a decent impression on Aaron…his opinion is the one that matters. Not mine."

"Okay," she quietly agreed.

"Daryl and I," Rick continued, passing him a gallon of water. "We'll come with you. Just to keep watch, that's all."

Reluctantly, Carrie nodded her agreement. There was an awkward pause before Daryl headed off towards the forest, ushering her to follow him. Rick turned to Carl and Glenn before he left. He knew Carl wasn't going to sit inside the car and wait patiently, and Rick knew when to pick his battles.

"You and Glenn keep watch," he told his son. "Just yell out if there's trouble."

Carl nodded, drawing his gun and looking for Glenn's instructions. Trusting Glenn, Rick headed off and followed Daryl and Carrie into the woods. 

* * *

It was strange to feel so awake, so mindful of each and every passing moment. Carrie knew now that it had been four months since she had been alone…four months since her mind had closed down and blocked out conscious thought that was crushing her spirit. After four months of feeling and thinking almost nothing, she was suddenly awake, fully aware of every moment that passed, every motion that her body made. Rick…his request that she not be afraid had pulled her back into reality, had chased away the heavy cloud of fog that had protected her.

Although she understood why her mind had closed down, she did not feel vulnerable. A little startled to be so painfully aware of herself, yes, but vulnerable? With clarity came peace. The one thing she had desired all along, human contact, had been granted to her when she least expected it. Rick, the first person she had seen in four months, had looked upon her as a human being, and in the instant she realised that, she began to feel like one.

She was covered in rotting flesh, the gore having seeped into her very pores and become a part of her. And yet, he didn't look at her as a monster. He had given her drinking water, comforting her with the promise that she could go with him. These men probably had no idea the impact of what they were doing…Rick's request that she clean herself up signalled her greatest metamorphosis since the day she had spread the rotting flesh over her own. She wasn't just cleaning up…she was becoming herself once again. Or at least a new version of herself.

"Rick," the man named Daryl said quietly, coming to a stop.

Stopping a few feet behind him, Carrie looked between the two men, watching the way they scanned the area. She waited nervously. Though she had willingly gone with them, there was still the possibility that they were going to take advantage of her. Maybe they were just waiting until she got cleaned up, or maybe they didn't want to do it in front of the kid…Carl.

"Good sight lines here," Rick answered, looking around.

"Here too."

Apparently satisfied, Rick hung the satchel and clean towel on a tree branch. Taking the other gallon of water from Daryl, he put both of them on the ground in front of her. He looked at her cautiously now, and she could tell he was trying to reassure her, to make her feel safe.

"There's clean clothing and soap in the bag," he told her kindly, his southern accent putting her at ease. "Use as much water as you need. We've got more."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He gave her a short nod and then walked away a few paces, turning his back on her. Though he appeared to scan the area, keeping a wide watch, he never turned to look at her. She glanced over at Daryl, who also also a few feet away, facing the opposite direction. He held his crossbow, a bolt loaded and ready, and he too gave no indication that he was going to turn around. Carrie stood there for a moment, completely exposed in the middle of the clearing, forced to trust that these men weren't going to take advantage of her.

Making a move, she opened the satchel and removed the clothing, readying it by draping it across the branch next to the towel. Judging by the size they belonged to Carl. She took out the wash cloth and bottle of liquid soap, taking one last look at the two men who stood yards apart on either side of her. Summoning all her courage, she removed her sweater and began to peel her filthy tank top over her head, dropping it to the ground beside her.

Kneeling down, she unscrewed the cap off the water and wet the cloth, doing her best to spread some moisture up and over her arms. Continually glancing up at the two men, she methodically began washing her face and arms, scrubbing hard to washing away months of dried sweat, dirt and Biter guts. Beginning to feel a little more comfortable, she looked down at her bra. Its filth was a stark contrast against the clean skin of her sternum. It was too big for her by now given how much weight she had lost in the last four months…she wondered why she even bothered wearing it. Reaching back, she unclasped the hooks and slid the straps over her shoulders.

A deep whistle startled her, and she hastily readjusted the bra, looking frantically between Rick and Daryl. She calmed a moment later, Rick giving a second whistle in response to the first. They weren't turning around to look at her, to take advantage of her…they were communicating. A few moments later there was a third whistle in the distance, probably coming from the car. Taking a deep breath, Carrie removed her bra. Her filthy hair clung to the top of her chest, the moisture making the blood and dirt run down her front and ruin her efforts.

Being generous, she poured enough water over her head to moisten her hair, and then liberally rubbed some of the liquid soap through it. Massaging it into a lather, Carrie tried not to cry out in joy…it had been so long since she had washed her hair she had forgotten how good it felt. Uncomfortably aware of her bare torso, she worked as quickly as she could, rubbing the soap through her hair and then bending forward to rinse it out. She smiled as she watched the dirt and grime running out of her hair, leaving it clean and fresh.

Getting to her feet, she took the towel and then dried herself off, gratefully pulling on the checkered shirt that had been provided for her. She didn't bother putting the dirty bra back on, figuring she could make do without it for now. Feeling better already, she shucked off her dirty jeans and then kicked them away, her old underwear following a moment later.

Another whistle startled her, this one short and sharp. She looked over at Daryl, who had his crossbow raised at something in the distance. Carrie grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her hips, watching as the trees in the distance moved.

"It's alright," Rick's voice came, reassuring her. She looked over at him, relieved to see that even though he was looking in her direction towards Daryl, he paid her no attention. "He's got it."

"What's he waiting for?" she asked, wondering what he was waiting. Daryl stood where he was, watching as the Biter suddenly appeared in the trees. It clearly had detected them, and was slowly shuffling over, the low growl permeating through the quiet woods.

"He'll wait for it to get a bit closer," Rick answered, turning back around and facing the opposite way again. "That way he can search it without leaving you and I exposed."

The explanation was fair, but Carrie didn't relax until she heard the bolt leaving the crossbow, striking the Biter in the forehead and pinning it to the tree behind. There was a moment of silence as Daryl listened for the presence of another. When he heard nothing, he let out a low whistle, indicating it was all clear. Carrie watched as he approached the Biter, scrutinising it from a distance before beginning to search the pockets. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Carrie hung the towel up again and then picked up the cloth and soap, resuming her former task.

"Anything good?" Rick asked quietly, and it took her a moment to realise he was talking to Daryl, not her.

"A knife," he replied, tucking it into his back pocket. He searched the other pockets before giving a low cry of satisfaction. "I got me some cigarettes," he declared triumphantly.

"Good for you."

"Menthols…but they'll do."

Daryl returned to his former place, his eyes trained firmly on the ground until he turned around in the opposite direction again. He reloaded his crossbow, and then slung it over his shoulder. With obvious relief, he opened the pack of cigarettes and lit one with a sigh.

"I've been meanin' to talk to you," Rick said, sounding stern all of a sudden. "Stop smoking in front of Carl."

"Why?"

"You're setting a bad example," Rick said in annoyance. "I'm sick of him asking you for one."

"He's a big boy."

"He's fourteen….I'd like for him to maintain some shred of innocence, if you don't mind."

There was a short pause, Carrie soaping up her legs. She listened to their conversation, curious that they were talking about something so normal.

"Alrigh'…don't get mad," Daryl said, sounding as though he was trying not to laugh.

"Why would I get mad?"

"Couple'a days back…I let him have one."

"You-" Rick started angrily, stopping himself with a deep breath. "You let my fourteen year old child smoke a cigarette?"

"You asked me to teach 'im things," he shrugged.

"Yeah. Hunting."

"C'mon, he was naggin' me, trying to act all tough and shit. You know what's he like."

"Yeah, I do," Rick agreed, still angry. "But that doesn't mean you can give him a cigarette."

"I did you both a favour. It was beautiful, man. I wish yah could'a seen it."

Carrie paused, looking between the two men as she dried off her legs and began to redress. Though they were at a distance from each other, their voices didn't seem to carry all that far, and they talked with ease. They had been on the road a long time, that much she could tell. They knew how to safely carry a conversation without creating too much noise.

"Seen what?"

"He didn't like it one bit, but I made him smoke the whole thing. He coughed 'till he cried, and then he puked."

Rick laughed quietly, making Carrie wish she could see the expression on his face. "Was that when you took him hunting last week?"

"Yeah, that was the day."

"Well thanks for that," Rick said sarcastically. "He puked twice that afternoon, and I'm the one who had to look after him."

"Like I said, I did yah a favour. He won't ever smoke again."

Rick appeared to falter. "He's still asking you though…"

Daryl snorted. "That's just to wind yah up. The way your face turns red and yah get all annoyed…why wouldn't he keep askin'?"

"Right."

Buttoning up the jeans, Carrie let herself relax again. The conversation between the two men had put her at even more ease, glad to hear something that sounded relatively normal. A father trying to stop his son smoking.

"I'm finished," she said quietly.

Both men turned around, Rick sending Daryl an exasperated glare. Seeing her now, cleaned up and redressed, he seemed surprised by her transformation. "Leave them," he instructed as she bent to pick up the dirty clothing. "We'll get you something decent to wear later. Shoes as well."

"Thank you."

She watched awkwardly as the two men gathered everything up for her, Rick taking the satchel, body wash and towel. Daryl picked up the empty bottles of water and then checked their surroundings, holding his crossbow ready as he lead the way back to the car. This time instead of walking behind her, Rick walked at her side. He was quiet, but she could tell he wanted to say something to her. Already she could tell that the friendly tone he spoke to his companion with would not be used on her.

"You can trust us," he said quietly, repeating what they had said earlier. "You don't have to be afraid."

"Thank you."

"Just don't mistake me for the welcome wagon," he said very seriously. "You have to earn my trust."

His words were blunt, and to the point. She didn't know what to say in response, so she settled for just nodding.

"I want to make this perfectly clear, Carrie…"

"I'm listening," she said cooperatively.

"You do anything to hurt my group…anything that hurts my son, and I won't hesitate to kill you."

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to look up at him. His eyes were brilliant blue, and they looked at her intensely, conveying the seriousness of what he was saying. "I understand."

He nodded, pleased by her response. They returned to the car in silence, Carrie hovering awkwardly as Rick returned the satchel to the car, rearranging everything in the trunk. The kid…Carl, approached her with a cautious smile, holding something out to her. Her jaw dropped when she saw the items, having not laid her eyes on such things in many months. A toothbrush, toothpaste and broken comb sat in his palm.

"I thought you might want these," he said politely, handing them to her. He picked up her bottle of water from where she had left it, passing that to her also.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, looking at the items.

"Carl," Rick called, placing a large plastic tub on the ground. He glanced at Carrie as he ushered his son to come back over. "Find her something to eat…something light."

Turning away, Carrie remembered how hungry she was, knowing the last she had eaten were a handful of grapes two days ago. She was no good at catching any food to eat…it was a small wonder she hadn't died of starvation just yet. Now that she had remembered, her hands trembled with hunger, and she clumsily smeared a little toothpaste onto the brush. Just as washing her hair felt amazing, so too did brushing her teeth. Anytime she had come across fresh water, she had done her best to wash her mouth out, using her fingers (whenever they were clean) or leaves to roughly wipe at her teeth. As she spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth, she ran her tongue over her teeth, remembering the thousands of dollars her parents had spent on orthodontics.

She glanced back at the car, curiously trying to listen to Rick and Carl talking. Rick was rearranging the contents of the trunk, making room to pull up one of the folded down seats.

"Daryl's taking the back. You're up front, with me," Rick told him, giving a nod of approval when Carl showed him a bread roll and protein shake he had made up.

"I don't mind sitting in the back," Carl offered. "Won't Daryl be too cramped?"

Rick's response to this was too quiet for her to hear, and she quickly turned away when she realised Glenn was watching her. Finishing up, she dragged the comb through her knotted hair, trying to ignore how many of the blonde locks departed her scalp. She pulled the clumped hair from the comb and let it fall to the ground before returning it to Carl.

"Thanks again," she said quietly, handing the items back.

"That's okay," he nodded. He opened up the satchel she had used earlier and deposited the items inside. "Here…the protein shake's not very nice, but apparently they're good for you."

Carrie couldn't care how awful the protein shake was. It, combined with the slightly stale bread roll Carl gave her, looked positively mouthwatering. Not knowing what else to say, she settled for thanking him again.

"You jump in the back," Rick instructed her, holding Daryl's crossbow while he manoeuvring his long legs around the cargo to settle into the very back seat. "Passenger side."

She nodded, doing as instructed. It felt strange to open the door of a car, and even stranger to climb up the side step and settle herself onto the back seat. Nervous as to what the next few hours would bring her, she took a small sip of the protein shake and followed it with a small piece of the bread roll. Carl took the passenger seat up front, while Glenn opened the other door and sat beside her. Rick on the other hand, did not approach the empty driver's seat. Instead he fumbled around with something in the trunk, before coming around to her door.

His face was kind as he opened the door, requesting that she put her feet out. Her heart swelled as he splashed some water over her dirty feet, apologising quietly when it stung the bottom of her left foot. He had seen the state of her old sneakers, had seen the blisters that had formed when the sole of the left shoe had worn away. Taking it in his calloused hand, he slowly poured some water over the blisters before gently patting the area dry with her towel. In that moment he looked up, their eyes meeting. She could see the compassion that had driven him to help her, the kindness that hovered behind his protective nature. He looked away, and seconds later he applied a large dressing, covering the worst of the injury.

"Thank you," she said when he was finished, hoping she conveyed how grateful she was for their help. Her voice caught on the last word, and she was glad she didn't have to say anything else. The burden that had been lifted was not going to be forgotten, and she found her throat tightening with emotions she hadn't felt in a long time.

He nodded as he stood up, looking her in the eye for a moment. As though remembering something, he shrugged the brown suede jacket off his shoulders and passed it to her.

"Put this on," he requested. "Please."

Not trusting herself to speak, she just nodded her head, taking it gratefully. Though it was too large, the suede jacket was soft and warm on her, and had a comforting smell about it.

He closed the door for her, and returned to the trunk to put everything away. "Got enough room, Daryl?"

"Do now," Daryl grunted, dropping a heavy bag onto the seat between she and Glenn. He slapped his hand against the trunk window. "C'mon. Let's get this show on the road."

As Rick slammed the trunk closed, Daryl stretched his legs out as best he could. As he did so, he placed his crossbow on top of the cargo, within quick reach. Carrie began to understand why Carl had been delegated the coveted position of the front seat. From their seats, Glenn, Daryl and Rick could all see her at a quick glance, limiting any opportunities for the mistrusted passenger to cause trouble. This realisation didn't bother her as much as it might have a few minutes ago.

The four of them had done nothing to indicate that they might harm her…their behaviour had been precisely the opposite. They had gotten her cleaned up, given her food and clothing…Rick had literally given her the clothing off his back. They didn't trust her just yet, but they had proven that she could trust them.

Rick started the car, glancing to his right at Carl. "Seat belt."

"Dad…"

"Carl…"

"Are you afraid the Sheriff's Deputy is going to write you a ticket?"

Rick rolled his eyes, making Carrie think there was an inside joke. "Carl," he said sternly, handing a radio towards Glenn in the backseat.

Setting a good example, Rick buckled up his own seatbelt. She almost smiled as Carl sighed, reaching back and putting his belt on. Beside her, Glenn fiddled with the dials as Rick started driving again.

"Aaron, we're on the road again."

There was silence before the radio crackled with a response. "With a passenger?"

"Yes," Glenn replied.

When Aaron spoke next, Carrie listened carefully, remembering that this was the person she had to convince. "Rick. I trust you, but if this women murders me in my sleep, you're the first person I'm gonna bite when I turn."

A laugh rippled around the car, contrasting with Carrie's mouth that gaped in shock. They were just joking around, right? They didn't really think she was going to hurt them? They wouldn't when they saw her anyway.

"He'll keep that in mind," Glenn advised. "Just try not to make a mess of the camp, alright? Keep it neat."

A second voice came over the radio, and it was clear that the gruff voice was scolding them.

"Ladies? Shall we resume radio silence so as to conserve battery power for a…I don't know, emergency?"

Glenn laughed shortly. "Sorry Cupcake," he said down the radio.

There was a short moment of silence, before the radio crackled again. "Fuck off, Glenn. Don't make me come back there."

Glenn and Carl both burst out laughing, Rick barely managing to suppress a smile from the driver's seat. Carl turned and reached back to Glenn, giving him a high five.

"Don't," Rick started, trailing off with a short laugh. "Don't upset Abraham, or we'll all suffer."

Glenn turned to her next, reassuring her. "You can relax. Abraham's sense of humour is pretty lacking, that's all."

She just nodded, looking at Glenn's kind face. Like Rick, he gave her a comforting smile. "So, Carrie…what kind of music do you-"

"We are not listening to Daft Punk," Rick cut him off, glaring at him in the rear vision mirror. "Or Moby. Give it up, Glenn."

Carrie suppressed a laugh, amused by their banter. Sighing, Glenn rolled his eyes and retorted, he and Carl ganging up on Rick until he finally gave in. A comfortable silence fell as Carl slid the Daft Punk CD into the stereo system, apologising to his father for ganging up on him. Still a little uncertain, Carrie tucked her feet up underneath herself, keeping them warm as she pulled Rick's jacket tighter around her shoulders. The car caught up to the convoy ahead, Carrie taking note of the removal van that had driven past her. Though she struggled to stay alert, the gentle hum of the car's engine and the tyres on the road sought to lull her to sleep, and she could only resist for so long.

Resting her head against the door, Carrie closed her eyes and let genuine sleep wash over her. 

Notes

Go on, feed the writer...please leave a comment.


	3. Chapter 3

Daylight was evading Rick, the sun taunting him as it descended lower and lower in the sky. They hadn't made as much progress that day as they had originally planned. Even with allowing extra time for detours and road blockages, they were a few hours behind schedule.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Rick fought to keep his eye lids from dropping, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer until they made camp for the night. Blinking rapidly, he looked over at Carl who was softly snoring in the passenger seat, his ankles crossed over on the dashboard. Like all the other passengers in the car, he was fast asleep, his Sheriff's hat keeping the sun off his face. Looking in the rear view mirror, he checked on Glenn and Daryl, who were both stretched out sleeping. After checking on them, Rick allowed his eyes to scan over to their new passenger, who sat across from Glenn in the back seat.

It had been five hours since they had picked her up that morning, and he hadn't yet decided what he thought of her. Only fifteen minutes after they hit the road again, Carrie had succumbed to her exhaustion, her eyes slowly closing as she rested her head against the door. He couldn't blame her. After being on the road for four months, the safety of a car would lull anyone into a deep slumber. She had barely moved, the only change being the warm blanket Glenn had draped over her lap. Not long after that, after deciding their new passenger was no immediate threat, Glenn and Daryl had each nodded off to sleep, both preparing for a long night on watch. Carl had stayed awake for a few hours, keeping his dad company before he too had succumbed to boredom and fell asleep.

Since then, Rick had been driving almost without pause, his eyes trained on the road and his mind unfocused. He had always enjoyed driving, and far preferred it on long trips like these. Five hours had passed quickly, and though they had stopped briefly to refuel with their spare containers, the three vehicles ahead showed no signs of wanting to stop again. He understood their desire to keep going, knowing that they had a long week ahead of them. As he frequently did, he glanced up to the rear view mirror and observed his family, making sure they were still sleeping comfortably. He cast his eyes over to Carrie next, once again scrutinising her with care.

Starvation had taken a toll on her body, her face and frame looking a little gaunt. Despite her comfortable slumber she looked sickly, and Rick knew it would take some rest and some carefully planned meals before she would start to recover. He remembered their arrival at Alexandria, and the way they had to slowly reintroduce themselves to proper eating again. Poor Judith hadn't known what hit her. After surviving on watered down formula and whatever food Rick could make her eat, her first regular bottle had made her puke. The had all felt ill after they started eating properly again.

Still looking at Carrie, Rick restlessly chewed his lip, unsure of why he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was fast asleep, certainly doing nothing worth watching. Nevertheless he continued looking at her in the rear vision mirror, his eyes tracing the line of her jaw and observing the way her blonde hair fell around her face, contrasting her dark eyebrows. He frowned at this, remembering the way her hair had looked when he had first seen her. Knotted and dirty, he had initially thought her to be a brunette, not the blonde colour it was now. He smiled as he looked at her, noticing the soft curve of her lips and her shapely eyes. A few moments later he came to an obvious realisation, one that startled him. She was attractive.

It shouldn't have surprised him, really. Like any other man, married or not, he noticed women whom he found attractive. There would be something wrong with him if he didn't, and —

"Dad!"

Carl's voice broke him from his thoughts, and Rick looked forward just in time to see a Walker in the middle of the road. Unlike earlier when he had nearly run over Carrie, there wasn't enough time to swerve, not safely at least. He almost panicked, almost slammed his foot on the brakes and sent them crashing into a tree, but by instinct he remembered his police training. Maintaining a steady steering wheel, he focused on keeping the car straight as it slammed into the Walker, the decaying body hitting the car and bouncing over the windscreen. There were shouts of surprise from the passengers, almost drowned out by the loud thuds of the Walker bouncing over the roof.

"What was that?" Glenn exclaimed.

"Fuck…" Daryl swore, looking through the back windscreen as the body hit the road behind them. "That a Walker?"

"Yeah, sorry," Rick muttered, slowing the car to a stop. Echoing Daryl's sentiment, he too swore under his breath. He looked at Carl, seeing his wide eyes of panic. "You alright?"

Carl nodded, letting out a slow breath as he began to relax. Pulling on the hand brake, Rick turned around and checked on everyone, steeling himself before looking at Carrie. She had clearly awoken in a fright, her feet tucked up beneath her as she sat stiffly in her seat. Glad that everyone was alright, he groaned when he assessed the damage his inattention had done to the car. Two large cracks ran down the centre of the windscreen, both spiralling out from the top where the Walker had actually hit.

Checking the area for more Walkers, he opened the car door and stepped out, grimacing as he observed the dented bonnet. The windscreen was covered in blood, and he sighed loudly, putting his hands on his hips. The other doors opened and the passengers stepped out, the radio crackling as Glenn told Abraham what had happened. Allowing himself a few moments to stand and stretch out, Rick listened to Daryl complain as he unfurled his long legs and climbed out of the very back seat.

"Family car my ass," he muttered, rubbing his backside as he cracked his neck. "Shot gun."

Wanting to get back on the road, Rick got to work quickly. Heading around to the other side, he passed Carrie who was standing just outside the car. Smiling at her awkwardly, he apologised as he reached into the back footwell where there was another gallon of water. Lugging it around to the front, he turned the wipers on and poured some water across the windscreen, relieved when the mess cleared itself without trouble. Checking out the damage to the front a little more closely, Rick knew they were very lucky. It was merely cosmetic, nothing that would stop the car running. The cracked windscreen would be a pain in the ass, distracting to look through, but not enough that it would warrant abandoning a perfectly reliable car. Still shaking his head to himself, he approached Carrie again and returned the bottle of water to the footwell.

He felt badly, noticing that she was shaken up. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologised, lingering awkwardly. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she hastened to answer. "Just took me by surprise, that's all."

Nodding in agreement, he squinted and looked at the Walker. It lay in the centre of the road, it's body crippled though it's head and arm still moved. "Yeah…me too."

"Do you want me to drive?" Glenn offered in concern.

Glancing back at Carrie, Rick found himself nodding. He cleared his throat, and headed around to the other side. "That's probably a good idea."

"Hey, Dad," Carl said hopefully, partway through climbing into the trunk seat. "Maybe I could drive…just for a little while…"

Daryl answered before Rick could. "No," he growled, stretching out in the front passenger seat. "I've crapped my panties enough for one day."

"Dad?"

Laughing to himself, Rick settled into the back seat across from Carrie, sharing a smile with her. "Sorry."

As Carl groaned in defeat, Glenn started the car back up, and they caught up to the other cars ahead. As they settled in, Rick stole a few glances to his right at Carrie, his attention curious rather than suspicious. She was wide awake now, but still didn't look entirely comfortable in their presence. He couldn't blame her, he supposed, not given what she had told them about the men who had attacked her. If his suspicions were right, then the men who had attacked her had moved on to attack them, to attack Carl.

"We're nearly done for the day," Rick commented, hoping small talk might put her at ease. "Driving, I mean."

Carrie just nodded, giving a polite smile. Her expression changed, and it looked like she wanted to ask something. She turned her bottle of water around in her hands, and didn't look at him until she spoke next. "Where are y'all actually heading?" she asked tentatively.

The question caught Rick by surprise, and he remembered that she had no idea where they were going, or where they had come from. "We're on a supply run down to Georgia," he answered. "We've been on the road three days."

She frowned, mulling this over. "Where have you come from?"

As Carl began to answer, Rick cut him off. "Our camp is a few days back that way," he said cryptically. He remembered Aaron's caution, his reluctance to tell new comers exactly where the safe zone was located.

Carrie nodded, understanding why he wouldn't tell her. She shifted in her seat, still looking uncomfortable. "It's an awfully long way to go for supplies."

Nodding in agreement, Rick wondered just how transparent they could afford to be with her. The idea that she was scouting them out, that she had people following them to take advantage, had crossed his mind once or twice. Nevertheless, she was with them now. There would be no point in trying to hide where they were going, or why.

"We had a place in Georgia for a while," he began to explain. "But we lost it about two months back."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said quietly, looking back at giving Carl and sympathetic smile. "Overrun?"

"Something like that," Rick muttered. "We had to clear out pretty quickly…left a lot of our things behind."

"Must be a lot if you need that," she commented. She indicated to the removal truck ahead of them.

"There's a few other places we're checking out too."

There was an awkward silence, and Rick watched her from the corner of his eye, stealing a glance at her when he turned to look out the rear window. She was chewing her lips, mulling over something before taking a drink of water.

"I'm pretty good on supply runs," she told him. "And I'm good at taking down Biters…I'm quick on my feet."

"That's good," he commented politely.

"I'm just saying," she continued awkwardly. "I can help you out…I'll pull my weight."

"It's fine," Rick commented, surprised by her eagerness. "You'll need to rest up for a while…let your foot heal."

"Sure."

Silence fell again, but less awkward this time. With a little information on their plans, Carrie seemed to relax a little, soon growing comfortable enough to rest her head against the window and go back to sleep. Just as Glenn had earlier, Rick picked up the blanket and draped it back over her lap. Another two hours passed in silence, Rick drifting off to sleep for a little while until he was awoken by the sound of the radio crackling.

"We're stopping for the night," Rosita's voice came through, sounding distant. "There's a field on the right."

"Alrigh'" Daryl replied, looking relieved.

Once again Rick looked over at Carrie, who remained undisturbed by the radio and voices. He felt Carl tapping his shoulder, and turned back to see him leaning close.

"Dad…how much do you think we can trust her?" Carl asked under his breath.

Pleased by his son's caution, Rick answered him honestly. "A bit."

Carl frowned, not certain of what he meant. "How much?"

"I doubt she's going to murder us in our sleep," he explained, echoing Aaron's joke. "But don't let your guard down."

"I won't," he promised.

"Good. Don't turn your back on her."

"I won't."

"One last thing," Rick muttered, ushering Carl back as he made to resume his seat. "Don't give her a weapon…If you see her with one, come and tell me."

"Okay."

Satisfied, Rick settled back and waited as they drove the last mile to where they were camping that night. They came to a stop behind the removal truck and Aaron's sedan, Aidan and Tobin parked further up ahead. To their right was the large field Rosita had mentioned, and the group paused for a few moments to observe their surroundings, to wait for indications of company. Just as Carrie began to rouse, Aaron stepped out of his car and approached them, looking into the backseat with a friendly but cautious smile.

"Hey," Aaron greeted them all through the passenger window. He considered Carrie for a moment, and then turned to Rick. "This look alright to you?"

Rick nodded, approving of their location choice. The sun was already beginning to set. If they pushed on much father, they'd be setting their camp up in darkness, which wasn't ideal. The wide space and overgrown grass would provide a small amount of cover from any others passing the road. They would have to keep careful watch of their surroundings, but they would manage.

"I'm heading out to stir up the field, see if we got any company lurking in the grass," Aaron said, glancing at Carl. He looked at Rick again. "Is it okay if I take Carl for a drive?"

In the backseat, Carl sat bolt up right. "Yes!" he said enthusiastically.

Rick hesitated, torn. While he wanted to keep Carl on a short leash during this supply run, he knew he had to pick his battles carefully. He looked Aaron in the eye when he answered.

"Only because it's you, Aaron," he said, opening his door. He stepped out, letting Carl climb over the back seat and exit the car. "Carl, wear your seat belt."

"Yeah," he agreed distractedly, already heading for Aaron's car. "Thanks Aaron."

Groaning, Rick stopped Aaron before he got too far away. "Make him wear his belt, please."

Aaron laughed at him, but nodded in agreement as he followed Carl back to the car. Feeling the stress of seeing his fourteen year old at the wheel of a car, Rick got back into his own and told himself to stop worrying. Clenching his fists, he watched in concern as Carl adjusted the seat and slowly pulled back out onto the road. The car lurched before stalling, the brake lights illuminating as Carl restarted the ignition and tried again. This time he pulled away a little more smoothly, lurching again as he moved into second gear. Rick breathed a sigh of relief only when he saw the seatbelt safely secured across his chest.

"You worry too much, man," Daryl said, impatiently strumming his fingers on the car door.

"Can't help it," he sighed, thinking back to the many car accidents he had attended back in King County. But the day Carl had asked, Rick hadn't been able to refuse him. His argument that he needed to know how, lest there was an emergency, was irrefutable, and so Rick had reluctantly begun teaching him. He was a good student too, determined to succeed and uncharacteristically patient with himself.

"What are they doing?" Carrie asked, looking into the field. The red sedan leisurely ambled around the overgrown field, doing a few laps before returning to the road.

"Stirring up any Walkers," Glenn answered, his eyes following the car's path. He pointed to the cabin of the removal truck, where Abraham stood scanning the field with a rifle.

The sedan came to a stop, and there was a slight pause before Abraham began firing, taking out three Walkers who had stirred.

"Won't it attract them?" she asked in concern, watching as Carl and Aaron returned to the field for a second lap.

"Not unless they do burn outs," Glenn assured her. "Don't worry, we know what we're doing."

Daryl scoffed at this. "Try tellin' that to Aidan."

Glenn chuckled, rolling his eyes. "As long as he thinks he knows what's going on, that's all that matters."

"Wa-Was that Aaron, just then?" Carrie asked in confusion. "The one who decides about me?"

"Yeah, that was him," Rick answered.

"And who's Aidan?"

A low chuckle passed around the car, Glenn turning around to answer her. "Aidan is a self-professed douche bag. He likes to think he's in charge."

"Right…But Aaron's in charge…" she tried to clarify.

"Err…sort of."

"Oh?"

Glenn sighed, trying to wrap his head around the current hierarchy. "Abraham's in charge of this supply run, and Aaron's in charge of…people management."

Laughing to himself, Rick clarified the most important point. "All you need to worry about, is the fact that Aidan is not in charge of anything, even if he likes to think he is."

Carrie echoed his laugh, but her smile looked forced. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good," he nodded, watching as Michonne exited the minivan and drew her katana.

She crossed the road and entered the large field, easily cutting down a large area of grass where they could set up for the night. Impatient, Rick looked around and checked on Carl, glad to see that he and Aaron were waiting in the car. Abraham fired off two more shots from the rifle, and Rick caught Carrie's mouth gaping in surprise. He followed her gaze, laughing shortly when he realised she was watching Michonne swinging her katana.

"That's Michonne," he explained. "She comes across as a bit scary, but she's alright."

"Okay," she laughed uncomfortably, trying to cover up her former expression.

Getting more and more impatient, Rick was glad when Abraham's voice came over the radio again.

"All clear, ladies. Let's get set up."

Starting the cars again, Glenn followed the removal truck and the minivan across the road and into the field, the three vehicles pulling into their usual formation alongside where Carl and Aaron had parked. Already thinking through the list of things they needed to do before sundown, Rick made to get out of the car before pausing, turning back to Carrie.

"Wait here," he told her, glancing at her bare feet. "I'll get you some shoes."

Hearing her words of gratitude, Rick simply nodded. Observing the group as they got organised, he headed straight for Rosita, hoping she had brought a second pair of shoes.

"What's she like?" Rosita immediately asked as Rick drew close, jerking her head towards the car he had departed.

Rick hesitated, not sure of what to say. "Quiet." Before he could say much more, Aaron and Abraham had gathered around him, listening. "Her name's Carrie. She's been on her own for a few months…was gettin' around with a children's knife."

"A children's knife?" Aaron questioned, glancing back at her.

"Dora the Explorer," Rick nodded. "Did you bring spare shoes?" he asked Rosita, getting straight to the point. "Her others were barely holdin' together."

Rosita gave a short nod, pursing her lips in thought. "She need anything else?"

"Maybe some clothes if you or Michonne can spare them…could probably use a friend," he suggested hopefully, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't think travelling with three men exactly put her at ease."

"I'll take care of it," Rosita grimly agreed. Swinging her rifle around her back, she retrieved her pack from behind the seat in the removal truck and set off for the other car.

"Hey," Rick stopped her as she was walking past. "Don't tell her where we're from, and don't give her any weapons."

Rosita looked at him with a frown, his final request telling her not to trust Carrie too much. She gave another short nod and then headed off, and they watched as she approached Carrie who was still waiting in the car. Confident that Rosita could hold her own, Aaron and Rick climbed onto the back of the truck and started getting organised, first locating the long rope of Walker alarms they would need to set up. They followed Michonne who was still clearing large areas of grass for their camp. Driving metal stakes into the ground, they wound the long lengths of rope around them, checking that they made adequate noise when disturbed. At knee height a Walker would trip right over it, the loud clanging of metal alerting everyone.

"Has she said much?" Aaron asked, adjusting one of the stakes.

Rick didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "A little," he mused, looking over at Carrie. She had exited the car now, and she was pulling on Rosita's spare boots.

"Tell me again how long she's been out there?"

"She said since November," he answered, glancing up at Michonne who was listening carefully. "She was covered in Walker guts…that's how she got by."

Aaron nodded in agreement. "That's why Aidan didn't want to stop for her."

"It's fair enough," Rick muttered, understanding. "She doesn't seem like much of a threat, but-"

"Neither did Terminus," Michonne muttered, coming over and testing the rope again. "You sure she was alone?"

Being patient, Rick made sure to give this question due consideration. "I think so," he admitted. "If she did have a group who wanted to take advantage of us, they would have done it back on the road when we picked her up."

There was a short pause, Aaron and Michonne looking at him.

"Rick, you're the one who said not to give her a weapon," Aaron began vigilantly. "If we don't trust her with a weapon, then we have to reconsider letting her stay."

Rick looked up at him in surprise, halfway through driving a metal stake into the ground. "You haven't even talked to her."

"No," he admitted. "But you know how Eric and I work. We followed you on the road for a week until we were certain about you."

Gritting his teeth, Rick found himself defending Carrie, even though he had the same reservations. He stood up, facing Aaron squarely. "She's been on her own for months…what could you have learnt from watching her?"

"More than I know about her right now."

Though he wanted to argue, to raise his voice and force his point across, Rick bit his tongue. They were three days into a long supply run. They were all stressed and worried, they were all missing people back in Alexandria. Starting an argument over a complete stranger was not going to help.

"Well…we've planned for another eight days on the road. Will that be long enough for you to make a decision?"

Aaron seemed surprised by Rick's calm reply, and he was relieved that they weren't going to argue. "Sure…providing she doesn't murder us in our sleep."

"Right," he laughed, turning back to the metal stake.

"Rick, I'm serious," Aaron said to him, helping him wind the rope around the stake before they moved further around their camp. "If this woman is bad news, it's on you."

Unable to argue, Rick nodded in understanding. "Alright," he said, offering his hand. "She's on me."

Again, Aaron looked surprised by Rick's answer. Nevertheless he took his hand and shook it firmly, sealing their agreement. "She's on you."

* * *

Carrie sat quietly as evening came, apprehensively observing the group around her. All together eleven new faces peered at her as they settled in for the night, eleven different people scrutinising her every move, her every word. Feeling the pressure of this, she was grateful to Rosita, who had been generous enough to share her spare change of clothing with a complete stranger. She had redressed, Rosita's jeans and tank top fitting her a little better than Carl's clothing had, and though her heavy combat boots were on the large side, Carrie found she didn't mind. Now that she had another set of shoes on her feet, the blisters on the sole of her left foot were twice as painful, and so the extra room was necessary. She knew Rick was trying to be generous in telling her to get rid of her worn out sneakers, but the holes in them had been the perfect support for the swollen and angry sores.

Rosita had clearly been tasked with supervising her, for unlike everyone else, she didn't help set up the camp. Instead she stayed by Carrie's side, keeping watch as she got changed behind one of the cars and then refilling her empty water bottle from an enormous canteen in the back of the truck. As some dispersed to find extra water, and some set about gassing up the cars to prepare for their departure tomorrow morning, Rosita and Carrie sat down in the middle of the protective area the cars made, the two of them making small talk to pass the time. As night fell, the man she recognised as Aaron started turning the soil in the middle of their camp, carefully arranging sticks and leaves to create a fire. Lighting it, he set a metal stand over the top and placed a large pot on it. The others had returned with half a dozen gallons of water, and they slowly filtered it before pouring it into the pot.

"What are they doing?" Carrie asked, glad the fire had been lit. The night had fallen quickly, and so too had the temperature. The coat Rick had given her was warm, it's extra size meaning the sleeves fell to her knuckles, but still she was cold.

"Boiling water for drinking," Rosita explained. "We've got plenty in our canteen, but if we find a stream we always top it up while we have the chance."

"That's smart."

"Well, we aim for smart," Rosita joked. "Doesn't always happen, but we aim."

Carrie laughed, amused by her dry humour. Each passing minute spent with Rosita was putting her more and more at ease. Though she knew Rick had tried to make her feel comfortable, there was something to be said for female company.

"So, uhh," Carrie began, looking around again. Now that night had fallen, everyone had returned from their duties and seemed to be waiting around the fire. She looked up to the cabin of the removal truck, where a tall, strongly built man sat on watch. "That's Abraham?"

"Yeah, that's Abe," Rosita confirmed, the corner of her mouth turning up. "If he's a grouch to you just call him Cupcake, and he'll settle down pretty quick."

"Right," Carrie laughed, not sure she would dare. "Glenn, I think… he said Abe was in charge of this supply run?"

Rosita considered this, quickly glancing around. "Yeah, he is I guess. He and Aaron fine tuned the logistics."

"And Rick?"

"He's the one really in charge, even if he doesn't say it. He's the leader of our group, everyone looks to him for-"

"Wait, I though Aaron was the leader?" Carrie said in confusion, chewing on her lip. She grew frustrated, wanting to understand. Though they travelled in one group, she increasingly got the impression that there were really two groups at play here.

Rosita pursed her lips, realising Carrie's confusion. "Okay, here's the low down," she began, readjusting her pig tails. "There's two groups. There's Rick's group, and then there's Aaron's group."

"And you're in…"

"Rick's group. Aaron's not really the leader of his group, but for the supply run he is. About a month ago, Aaron's group took in Rick's. Aaron," she pointed him out as she spoke, "calls himself a recruiter. When we were out on the road, he and his partner followed us for a while, just to make sure they approved of us. When they did, they made contact, and brought us back to their camp."

"Wow."

"Yeah," Rosita smiled grimly. "We were pretty close to losing everything…we had no food, no water, fourteen people and a very hungry baby."

"You had a baby on the road with you?" Carrie gasped in disbelief. "How?"

"With difficulty. You can water down baby formula to make it last, but she noticed when we were watering down water. Aaron saved our lives."

"It sure sounds like it."

Rosita paused her explanation, looking down and kicking at the dirt. "Rick's group is me, Abraham," she continued on, pointing everyone out. "Glenn. Daryl and Carl you've already met, and that's Michonne. There're more of our group back at the camp, but not everyone needed to come."

Carrie nodded, following along and finally beginning to understand. "Daryl and Carl," she pondered, looking for the young teenager and the rough looking older man. "Where are they?"

"Probably in the woods, trying to catch something," Rosita reassured her. "Rick wants Carl to learn how to hunt properly."

"Oh."

"Anyway, you've met Aaron?"

"Sort of," she replied, recalling the brief minute when Aaron had approached their car that afternoon. He seemed friendly enough, his face kind and enthusiastic as he offered to take Carl for a drive. "For just a moment. He's the one who decides whether I stay, right?"

"He's advises the camp leader whether or not to let someone in."

"So, he'll be watching my every move," she confirmed, swallowing heavily.

"Don't take offence, but they'll all be watching your every move." Rosita sighed now. "But, even if Aaron approves, Rick will have the last say."

"But…I thought Rick was only in charge of his group."

Rosita nodded, agreeing with her. "Yeah, but his opinion has a lot of sway back home. He doesn't take many chances these days."

Growing anxious, Carrie looked over at Rick now. He sat on the other side of the fire, looking as nervous as she felt. He was tapping his foot impatiently, and she realised he was probably awaiting the safe return of Carl. His kindness had quite possibly saved her life…but she knew better than to see him as one dimensional. His three questions to her held the weight of the world, his questioning gaze telling her that she wasn't the only one who had seen and lost too much…he had clearly learnt from it.

"He took a chance on me today," she argued.

Giving her a short smile, Rosita continued. "Just be careful…he doesn't always give second chances."

Carrie just nodded, not knowing what to say to that. Like Rick, she too had been careful with second chances.

There was an awkward pause, Rosita finally clearing her throat before continuing. "So there's Aaron. And over there is Tobin and Aidan…and Nicholas. They're Aaron's group, and they've been at the camp from the very start."

"Aidan is the…" Carrie trailed off, trying to gauge what Rosita thought of him.

"The resident douchebag," she grumbled, just like Glenn had. "His mother is in charge of the camp. Used to be some congresswoman, and so by default Aidan thinks he's top dog."

Carrie laughed quietly. From the moment she had laid eyes on Aidan, she had agreed with what Glenn and the others had told her about him. He reminded her of her ex-husband - self-confident and a little too cocky.

"Rick said, that all I need to know is Aidan's not in charge."

"That's an understatement. Don't get me wrong, we all get along with him, but it's an effort. He and Glenn didn't exactly hit it off…Aidan's reckless…He hasn't seen what it's really like out here."

"I can tell that already."

"Rick had to make it clear that Aidan is a guest on this supply run…he's been behaving himself, but Rick will put him back in his place if he needs to." Rosita laughed again. "Funny that we have to supervise the adult more than the fourteen year old."

"I guess so," Carrie agreed, remembering something she had noticed about Carl. "I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing kids carrying guns."

Scoffing, Rosita rolled her eyes. "You think that's scary? Wait 'till you see Carl firing a machine gun. The kid know's what he's doing."

"Woah," she muttered, picturing the young teenager in her mind's eye.

Stifling a yawn, Carrie looked around at the group with a renewed perspective, feeling a little more confident now that she knew more about them. The dynamic seemed comfortable, everyone knowing what needed to be done, and when to relax. The atmosphere of the group suddenly changed, a flicker of tension passing through each of them. Rick got to his feet, his hand going to the revolver on his hip. They had clearly noticed something Carrie had not.

"It's just them," Abraham informed the group, indicating to something in the distance.

Rick visibly relaxed, but he didn't sit back down. The group was silent, listening to the sound of two sets of approaching footsteps. A moment later the two awaited group members reappeared between the cars, and Rick breathed a sigh of relief.

"Dinner," Daryl said gruffly, indicating to the dead possum Carl carried. He looked at Rick now. "He did good."

"What took you so long?" Rick asked, brushing his hand over Carl's shoulder. "I was worried."

"Daryl says I was scarin' them all away."

Daryl grunted in agreement. "He walks like 'is father. Go on, gut it."

Carl screwed his nose up in protest, making everyone laugh. "Come on…do I have to?"

"If you wanna eat."

"But I killed it!"

"I took you an hour, with my crossbow, and I out rank you. Do it."

Receiving no support from anyone, Carl sighed and pulled out his knife. Dropping down to his knees he reluctantly began, still looking to Daryl for guidance. Carrie watched on in amusement, noticing Tobin organising a small amount of rations to go with the meat.

"Carl seems like a nice kid," Carrie muttered, observing the grimace he pulled as he gutted the possum.

"You won't have any trouble from him," Rosita agreed quietly. "But don't take offence if he's a bit stand-offish. He can be slow to trust…more so with the men, I think."

"Right," Carrie murmured.

"I think something might have happened to him a little while back, that's all," Rosita continued, watching as Carl pulled out the entrails. "Knocked his confidence a bit."

This comment caught Carrie's attention, making her think back to something Carl had said that afternoon. When she had been explaining the men who had attacked she and her friend back in November, Carl had started forward, asking her about the group.

"Was it a group of men?" she asked Rosita, wanting to confirm the connection. "Did they attack him?"

Rosita hesitated, looking uncertain. "I don't know the whole story…it happened right before Abe and I met them."

"If we're talking about the same men, they might be the ones who attacked me in November," Carrie explained. Even though she had only just met Rosita, the need to tell someone what happened weighed heavily on her shoulders. "It was just me and one other girl, and this group of men attacked us…Rick made me tell him about them, and then Carl asked about one of them. He looked a bit upset."

Breathing out a long breath, Rosita nodded her head. "I got the impression it was something like that…but whatever they wanted from Carl, I'm pretty sure they didn't quite get it. Whatever happened, Rick doesn't talk about it, and Daryl only mentioned it to me once. He said Carl was luckier than most."

Carrie laughed bitterly. "Small world these days."

"Yeah," Rosita muttered, resuming her former explanations. "Aside from Rick, Carl will stick with just Daryl or Glenn…he's known them for a long time. Oh, and Michonne…she's Carl's partner in crime."

"Partner in crime? Really?" Carrie asked, looking across at Michonne. With her long dreadlocks, surly expression and massive katana, Michonne didn't look like a woman who went around befriending teenagers.

"Oh yeah," Rosita grinned. "When those two are whispering, watch your ass because they're up to something. Glenn and Daryl are kind of like Rick's right hand men…they've been together since the start…they're practically brothers. Especially Daryl…"

"Sounds like a pretty tight knit group," Carrie muttered, feeling a sting of intimidation.

"It is," Rosita smiled softly, looking around at them all. "We look after each other…we'll look after you too."

Though she was grateful, Carrie's first response was to tell her that she could look after herself. The instinct to assert herself as capable was quickly squashed, her sense of reason even stronger. She couldn't appear ungrateful to these people, but nor could she appear as weak. If they thought she was a burden on them, they might abandon her.

"I know I'm not much right now," she said quietly. "But I don't want to be a burden on anyone…I'll pull my weight."

Rosita just nodded, not seeming to care all that much. "Our group has carried other people before. People who wouldn't be able to make it on their own. Sometimes they are a burden," she admitted. "But at the end of the day, they're family…I guess."

She bitterly muttered something else under her breath, and Carrie only managed to catch the word 'scientist'. Although curious, Carrie didn't question what she had said, preferring instead to focus on the other things that had said that evening. Looking around at the people, she felt an increased sense of comfort, feeling more at ease than she had that morning, when she had placed her life in the hands of strangers. This would be the third group she had been with since the turn, the third mass of strangers who had come together for survival. Before, she had been on the other side of her present situation. She had been one of the leaders who took in people, leading instant families through the chaos of a fallen society.

However, unlike before, Carrie questioned how long this would last. Eighteen months ago she had been certain that the group of people she was with would survive together, that their comradeship would last. But slowly, piece by piece, their group fell apart. People were lost to Biters, lost to injuries…others simply left. When her second group had finally been lost, and it was just she and Sue trying to make it on their own, even then Carrie had been hopeful. Hopeful that they would make it together, that they'd find another like minded group and start over.

Given where she was today, her life having been saved by strangers, she found it difficult to be hopeful. But a flicker of it lingered inside her…she had no doubt that if Rick hadn't stopped for her, she wouldn't have lasted much longer. She was so weak, having not eaten more than berries and worms for days, and she was almost out of water. If Rick hadn't made the difficult decision to give a stranger a chance, she would be dead soon enough. Surely that was a sign that there was still hope…right?

A short while later, as pieces of possum meat were cooking over the fire, Michonne approached Carrie and Rosita, politely offering a bright pink protein shake.

"I hope strawberry is okay," she said, passing it to her.

"Thank you," Carrie said, nodding. Carl had been right, the protein shakes did taste awful, but there was no way she was going to pass it up. ""Michonne, right?"

"That's right," she confirmed, giving Carrie a look that was clearly critiquing her. "I'll get you some food."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Carrie said in a rush, getting to her feet. She flinched as she stood up, having forgotten about her blisters.

Michonne shook her head, ushering her back down. "A friend of Rick, is a friend of mine," she said plainly, heading off. She paused and turned back, sharing a smirk with Rosita. "Besides…it's nice to have another chick around."

Carrie chuckled and gave a short nod, resuming her seat again. "Thanks."

Playfully nudging her, Rosita grinned. "I told you she was alright." Looking around, she settled her gaze on Abraham who had come down from watch to eat. "Do you think if I pull my top down a little, Abraham will bring me dinner?"

Not waiting for an answer, Rosita pulled the front of her shirt down and called out to Abraham. She gave him a cheeky wink and Carrie burst out laughing, unable to help herself. Abraham just shook his head to himself, not bothering to hide his own smile.

"It's comin', it's comin'," he muttered, collecting a second napkin and ration of food.

"Who's going to wait on me hand and foot?" Michonne grumbled, taking a seat beside Carrie and passing her a napkin of warm meat and crackers. The serving was smaller than what the others had, but Carrie knew it was out of care, not aggression. She couldn't eat much right now, there was no point in wasting it on her just to be generous.

Rosita just scoffed. "Well Carrie and I are set, apparently."

Carrie began laughing again, enjoying the motion that she hadn't engaged in for many long months. Rosita and Michonne joined in, the three of them laughing even harder when they saw that everyone was looking at them, wondering what the joke was. Now that she had grown a little more comfortable, and knew a bit more about the new group of people she was with, Carrie began to settle in. She had wanted to regain to this sense of comradeship for so long, and it was difficult for her to comprehend that she had found it once again. Nevertheless she resolved herself to grasp it with both hands, and to not let go until the absolute end.


	4. Chapter 4

A bout of laughter chorused through their small campsite, a pleasant change despite the potential to attract Walkers. Looking around, Rick traced the laughter to Rosita and Carrie, rolling his eyes at what he saw. Rosita had pulled her shirt down to expose her cleavage and then called out to Abraham, no doubt requesting that he bring her some dinner. Ever amused by Rosita's methods of getting Abraham to do what she wanted, Rick shook his head to himself.

"What are they laughing at?" Carl asked, partway through climbing up onto the roof of the removal truck.

"Just concentrate on what you're doing," Rick muttered.

"Yes, Mom," Carl muttered back, settling himself into a comfortable position before taking the rifle, binoculars and floodlight Rick passed to him.

He glanced back at Rosita and Carrie. Michonne was joining them now, passing Carrie some rations on a napkin. The three woman talked quietly for a moment, and he noticed Carrie smiling for the first time. Not even a moment later, the three of them burst into laughter again, covering their mouths with their hands as Daryl told them to be quiet. Carrie sobered the most quickly, probably worried that she was genuinely in trouble. She didn't need to worry though, especially with Rosita and Michonne to protect her from Daryl's grumpy tendencies.

"All set?"

"Yeah," Carl nodded, already raising the binoculars and scanning the surroundings.

Leaving Carl to take over watch for Abraham, Rick returned to the rest of the group, helping himself to a few pieces of possum and a cracker. With their camp set up for the night and their stomachs reasonably full, there was a certain air of relaxation around, and Rick couldn't help but feed off of it. The first few days of their trip had been relaxing, but the third day, what with the addition of Carrie, Rick had been tense and on edge. It was an unexpected turn of events, something no one in the group had considered prior to nearly running her over. Even though they had been settled in camp for over two hours, everyone still watched Carrie curiously, looking over at Aaron to gauge what he thought of her. Rick too felt concern over Aaron's opinion, having boldly accepted responsibility for what transpired from Carrie's addition.

To his relief, she appeared to be settling in well with Rosita's company, better than she had with his, Daryl and Glenn's. She still had an air of nervousness about her, but her laughter and tentative smile was now putting the whole group even more at ease. He remembered that afternoon in the car, the way he had been staring at her for so long he ran over a Walker. He found himself wanting to talk to her, to hear what she had to say. Instead, he looked around at each individual, making sure they had all eaten.

"Has everyone had enough?"

The group nodded, most of them well used to living off rations. He glanced over at Aidan, Nicholas and Tobin, certain that although they nodded their heads, they were keen on taking the few left over pieces of cooked meat. He took a few small pieces of meat for himself, and then collected the last serving on a second napkin.

"Daryl," Rick started, offering the last serving to him. "This is yours."

"Nuh," he shook his head. "I'm turnin' in early. Last piece belongs to Carl…"

It wasn't a token of generosity, but one of respect. Carl's ears perked up when he heard what Daryl had said, and he looked down in surprise. "Really?"

"You caught it…you get first and last."

"Cool," Carl smiled, reaching down and taking it from Rick. "Thanks."

Daryl grunted in response, dropping his sleeping bag away from the group and sliding inside, boots and all. "Just don't take so fuc-…so long to catch it next time, alrigh'?"

As he settled off to sleep, he took off his vest and jacket and tossed them to Rick, who was a little cold after giving his to Carrie. Gratefully slipping it on, Rick took a seat by the fire and examined the group dynamic, pleased that so far everyone seemed to be getting on. As promised, Carl had been on the best behaviour of his life, not that Rick had been concerned, and Aidan and Nicholas so far seemed to be playing nicely. Rosita and Carrie were still talking quietly, Carrie slowly sipping on the pink protein shake, eating small pieces of a cracker in between. Concerned, he looked around to find where Michonne had slipped away to, relaxing when he caught a glimpse of her walking the perimeter not too far away.

Finishing his food, Rick washed his hands as best he could and then brushed his teeth, his heart still soaring with the small pleasure of being able to do such a chore. He remembered their first night in Alexandria, when Michonne had brushed for twenty minutes straight, unable to stop. It had all been so overwhelming at first, and Rick had been surprised to find that he hadn't gotten used to it yet. Every hot shower was a delight, every time he brushed his teeth was a joy…it said a lot about how far they had come.

Restless, Rick leant against the grill guard on the minivan and put his hands into his pockets, grateful that Daryl had given him his jacket to wear. Looking over at Carrie, he tried to gauge what he thought of her, wondering how best to approach. He had asked his three questions, and she had answered them to his satisfaction. There shouldn't be anything else to discuss…but a niggling feeling in the back of his mind told him there was. He remembered the woman he had encountered in the woods outside the prison, Clara. Though his instincts had told him to be careful, he had been too trusting, underestimating how much of a threat she posed. He should have known better. He had been where Clara was, grieving the loss of a spouse, and not exactly doing it in the most sane way. But when his instincts had told him to be careful, he had underestimated the person in front of him.

Was that where Carrie was? She had been on her own for four months, covered in Walker guts and surviving on very little. There was no doubt she had suffered in this world, her body was a physical testament to that. Just like everyone else, she had suffered losses, had seen things no person should have. Until he got to know her better, there was no way of telling just how much that had damaged her, no way of telling whether or not she was a disaster waiting to happen. But unlike with Clara, Rick's instincts were strangely absent, and he was unable to determine his gut feeling. That's what put him so on edge with her…his lack of instinct.

He wasn't the only one who was thinking along these lines. Aside from the obvious self-preservation instinct everyone else had, Aaron was gauging Carrie a little more carefully. He had volunteered on this supply run with the unspoken understanding that he was in charge of managing the Alexandrians. The power struggle between the two groups needed a buffer, and that was a major part of Aaron's role…Tobin's too. But Aaron had the added responsibility of answering to Deanna. Every person he allowed into Alexandria, even just once, he was responsible for. The supply run was an extension of this. Although that afternoon Rick had claimed responsibility for Carrie, Aaron still bore the burden of answering to Deanna for things that went on.

Aaron looked as though he wanted to approach Carrie, but was perhaps a little unsure of how to do so. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes scanning the various group members and routinely falling on Carrie. Rick wondered if Aaron would make the first move, before realising he was holding back. Maybe he was waiting for Rick to approach her first, letting him take charge of the person he had accepted responsibility for. Currently the group's focus was distinctly not on Carrie, everyone trying not to stare at her as though she was a new class mate. Catching Aaron's eye, Rick discreetly gestured to Carrie with a short shrug.

Aaron sat up a little straighter, giving Rick a nod of approval. Looking over at Carrie again, he took pause. All he needed to do was break the ice, to give himself or Aaron the opportunity to start talking to her without making her feel like it was an inquisition. Remembering something he should have done an hour ago, he grabbed the first aid kit in the trunk of the minivan. Steeling himself, he returned to the group and approached Carrie, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Is it okay if I take a look at your foot?" he offered, gesturing to the first aid kit.

She looked surprised, her mouth gaping a little until she nodded her head. He was trying to break the ice, but clearly he was doing so awkwardly. "That would great…thanks," she said quietly.

Sitting on the ground, he opened the kit as Carrie began to unlace Rosita's boot, very gently removing it. When she removed her sock, Rick gently took her ankle and guided it to his lap, resting it on his bent knee so that he could see the blisters. There were three small ones, and a fourth large one that spread across the ball of her foot, no doubt causing a great deal of discomfort. He suddenly thought of the shoes she had been wearing before, wondering if he had only caused her more discomfort by telling her to abandon them. The holes had been perfectly positioned to accommodate the swollen skin, likely enabling her to bear some weight on them.

"I'll need to drain the swelling," he began, noticing that they had the attention of the whole group. "It'll hurt, but you'll at least be able to stand on it properly."

Carrie just nodded, very quiet. The moment Rick pulled out a small blade from the kit, Michonne immediately came and stood behind him.

"You going to pop them?" she asked, sounding a little too eager.

Carrie flinched, looking at Rick a little uncertainly.

"No," he said firmly, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to drain them…gently."

"That's nasty," Michonne said, not bothering to hide her grin. "Can I help?"

"You can start by gettin' out of the light," he admonished her, looking around at everyone else who was crowding. "All of you."

"Save the big one for last," Tobin piped up.

"No, do it first," Michonne argued.

Rolling his eyes, Rick straightened up and looked at all of them sternly. "You're not helping."

To his surprise, Carrie started laughing, she and Rosita sharing a look. "I'm glad I can be of entertainment to you all."

Rick echoed her laugh, gently wiping the blade and the bottom of her foot with an alcohol wipe. "To be honest, we're lacking in entertainment."

"Take it while you can."

He realised he had stopped to stare at her, and he quickly looked away before his embarrassment showed. As Michonne began shining a flashlight on the area, Rick gently pierced the edge of the smallest blister, satisfied when the fluid built up inside began to drain onto the clean swab. Carrie didn't flinch at all, giving no indication that she had even felt anything. Continuing, he used the blade to gently push out the last of the fluid, leaving the surface of her foot comfortably smooth.

"You started already?"

"Yeah," he nodded, folding the swab and exposing a clean side.

"I didn't even feel it," she said in awe.

Carl scoffed from the top of the removal truck. "I wish you were that gentle when you popped my blisters."

As he started on the second, Aaron came and sat down near them, taking a long drink of water. While the group's attention was focused solely on her, he took the opportunity. "Carrie…I'm Aaron."

"Hi," she reached out and and shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you. So…why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"

"Okay," she laughed nervously, no longer paying attention to what Rick was doing. She smiled awkwardly, glancing around at all the faces starting at her. "Wh-where do I start?"

Aaron considered this. "What's your name? Your full name, I mean."

"Carlene Georgia Hartmann," she began. "But just Carrie is fine."

"And what did you do before all of this?" Aaron enquired politely. "You know, back in the days when we weren't eating each other."

Rick paused for a moment, as he always did when someone made an accidental reference to Terminus. The moment caught him off guard, constantly forgetting the differences between his group and those from Alexandria. They didn't know what had happened in Terminus, the horrors of what they had faced there.

"I was an advertising executive. I worked in Manhattan."

"Manhattan," Aaron questioned, his eyebrows raised. "That's a long way."

"I ended up in Atlanta when things went bad," she clarified.

"I do not want to know what Walker shit storm is going on up in Manhattan," Nicholas said in awe, coming to sit a little closer.

"Yeah, me either," she agreed. She suddenly flinched, her foot jerking on Rick's knee.

"Sorry," he apologised, hastily dabbing at the fluid coursing down the arch of her foot. He had just pierced the largest blister, and Michonne was not disappointed with the resulting eruption. "That's the worst one."

"It's okay," Carrie breathed, relaxing her leg again. She looked back to Aaron now, swallowing nervously. "What else?"

"Where did you go to college?" he asked.

She blushed, hesitating before answering. "Dartmouth."

A murmur of approval swept the group, Aaron giving a low whistle of admiration. "An Ivy League scholar."

"Don't hold it against me," she requested in embarrassment. "Besides, a fancy piece of paper doesn't mean a thing anymore."

Rick listened as he continued working, filling up three swabs from the largest blister. He was interested in what she had to say, and he found himself hanging on to her every word.

"So," Aaron smiled kindly. "Are you a real New Yorker?"

Carrie actually cracked a smile at this, but it was only tentative. "I liked to think so…I could sprint in heels, and I was always on my cell."

"Yankees or Mets?"

She laughed shortly. "I'm not stupid enough to answer that question."

"Were you married?" Aidan asked blatantly, interrupting Aaron's next question.

"Divorced," she answered after a pause, watching Rick as he applied a new dressing to her foot. "No kids."

"What about your family?"

"I was an only child…my parents lived in Miami. I was flying down to make sure they were alright, but my plane diverted to Atlanta."

"Skills?" Aaron asked next, no doubt considering her potential role in Alexandria. "Hobbies?"

"I played field hockey in college…and I'm good with flat pack furniture. That's not very useful these days," she apologised.

"What do you miss the most?" Aaron asked. Rick knew it wasn't just a general question, but one that would say a lot about what type of person Carrie was. "Aside from people and hot water."

Carrie hesitated, not sure of what to say. "I don't know."

"Come on," Aaron encouraged her. "For me, it's my Netflix."

She smiled politely, trying to think of an answer. "It's kind of stupid…but I do miss my yoga class."

There was a collective groan from most of the men, rolling their eyes in disapproval. Aaron just shrugged, laughing a little at everyone's reaction.

"Oh come on," she said in embarrassment, trying to explain. "I'd always go with my co-workers, and we just spent the whole time laughing at each other…the instructor hated us."

"You like to keep fit," Aidan said supportively, nodding in approval. "I like that."

Rick glanced up at him, raising his eyebrows. Was Aidan flirting with her? That annoyed him more than it should…they shouldn't be flirting with this woman, but treating her with caution.

"So…you're an Ivy league graduate, who misses yoga and played field hockey," Aaron recapped. "Did I miss anything?"

Carrie laughed, clearly uncomfortable. "Ummm….I fancy myself to be a green thumb…I had a herb garden on my fire escape in Manhattan…it always died though."

"You should ask Rick about his massive cucumber," Daryl's voice piped up.

Looking around in surprise, Rick glared at Daryl. There was the hint of mischievousness in his voice, and knowing Daryl well, there was a sexual innuendo behind the seemingly innocent comment. He had rolled over in his sleeping bag to look at them, and judging by the expression on his face, he knew exactly what he had just said.

"Sorry?" Carrie asked, a smile playing on her lips. She looked as though she was trying not to laugh.

"He, uhh," Rick began awkwardly, forgetting how to speak. Thankfully Carl spoke up, completely missing the innuendo.

"Dad used to have a vegetable garden back at our old place," he explained, scanning the area with the binoculars. "We used to grow heaps of food."

"Yeah," Daryl piped up again. "Massive cucumbers."

Rick bit his tongue for now, focusing on methodically wrapping the bandage around Carrie's foot.

"What else did you grow?" she asked politely.

Clearing his throat, Rick answered. "Beans…peas. Just general stuff…"

"Right," she smiled, catching on to his embarrassment. She continued talking now. "I can also ride a unicycle…but only after a few drinks."

As everyone laughed, Rick tied off the bandage and tossed the use swabs into the fire. "Try to keep your shoes off whenever you can," he told her, carefully giving her foot back.

"Thank you," Carrie said gratefully. She crossed her foot onto her knee and looked at the neat bandage. "It feels better already."

"You're welcome."

Without another word, he got to his feet and headed off, Michonne following with a cup of the water they had boiled. Giving him a pump of soap, she let him lather up before pouring the water over his hands.

"Next blisters are mine."

"You like that stuff?" he asked in surprise.

"I love it."

"Yet you won't change one diaper for Judith."

Michonne laughed, a strange look briefly crossing her face. "Don't worry…if she gets a blister, I'll be there for her."

"I'll keep that in mind," he muttered, heading over to the minivan trunk. As he passed Daryl, he made sure to give him a swift kick in the leg.

"What was tha' for?" he grumbled quietly, turning over in his sleeping bag.

"You know what for," Rick muttered, putting the first aid kit away. He lingered, glancing over at Carrie who was being quizzed by the group again.

"You been makin' eyes at her all day," he shrugged innocently.

"I have not," he denied hotly.

"Right…an' like she ain't capable of taking care of her own foot. Just figured she ought'a know 'bout yah cucumbers…"

"Yeah, real subtle. Thanks."

Letting Daryl laugh at his expense, Rick resumed his place leaning against the grill guard. Folding his arms across his chest, he watched and listened as the rest of the group continued quizzing her, asking random questions now. To her credit, she answered each and every one of them, never faltering under the intense curiosity of the group. Under the pretence of helping Carl keep watch, Rick listened to every word Carrie said, a small part of him wondering why he needed to scrutinise the superficial questions being asked. No one brought up the harsh questions Rick wanted answers to…instead they asked her about life before the outbreak, about stupid things.

"Hey," Glenn said quietly, coming from the campfire to join Rick on the grill guard. He passed him a mug of coffee, the two of them preparing to take the first watch.

"Hey."

Sitting beside him, Glenn shivered a little, warming his hands with his mug. "An interesting day."

"It was," he agreed.

Glenn gave a short laugh, remembering something funny. "You hear how she takes her coffee?"

Rick nodded. "Skinny vanilla mocha…extra hot, extra espresso. Hold the foam."

Glenn laughed again. "So, you were listening?"

"Am I ever not?"

"True," he agreed, sipping his coffee. "So. What do you think?"

Rick didn't answer at first. He glanced over at Carrie again, noting her relaxed shoulders and tentative smile. She was settling in faster than he expected…perhaps he had broken the ice enough. "I don't know."

"Come on, it's just me."

"No," he repeated, feeling frustrated. "I don't know."

Thankfully Glenn didn't press the issue, leaving Rick to ponder his thoughts. Even after hearing her answers to Aaron's questions, Rick was not satisfied…he still had no gut instinct to guide him, nothing to tell him what to think. That worried him more than the fact that he didn't know her. There were still more questions to ask, more answers to be heard. Hearing Carl calling for him, Rick handed his coffee back to Glenn.

"I'll tell you this much, Glenn," he said wearily, rubbing his temple. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

Chuckling, Glenn asked, "How old are you?"

"A lady never tells," he quipped, heading over to the removal truck and climbing up the side ladder. "What is it?" he asked Carl.

"I think it's a Walker," he said uncertainly, picking up the floodlight and then passing Rick the binoculars.

"Don't shine it in the woods," he instructed, standing on the cabin ladder. Feeling the weariness in his bones, he looked through the binoculars and followed the light until he saw movement. It was a Walker. "You're right…good spot."

"Thanks," Carl said, looking down at Glenn who carried the other rifle. "We got one, Glenn."

"You take it," Glenn instructed. Abandoning his coffee, he climbed back onto the minivan and checked the other areas.

The whole group fell silent, waiting for the danger to pass, and Rick joined Carl on the top of the cabin, taking over the flood light. Preparing his rifle, Carl lay on his front and peered through the scope, getting comfortable. Looking at the weapon, Rick knew it was not Carl's preferred rifle…that he struggled with that one.

"Just take your time," he told him quietly, peering through the binoculars and making sure he kept the light steady. The female Walker ambled through the field of tall grass and weeds, no doubt heading towards the light from their camp fire. Judging by the stage of decay, she hadn't been dead all that long.

A long moment passed, Carl taking a slow breath before firing. The Walker fell, but Carl swore under his breath, he and Rick both knowing he had missed the headshot.

"It's alright, she'll get back up." He chose to ignore Carl's swearing.

The wait for the Walker to resume her approach was painful, making Rick wonder if Carl had actually gotten the headshot after all. Finally there was movement, the Walker getting back to her feet and heading towards them again.

"You were close. Looks like you got the ear."

"Yeah," Carl said, gaining a little of his confidence back. It had been some time since Carl had needed to fire his handgun, let alone a rifle. He took another moment to focus, and then took a second shot. "Got it," he declared.

A sigh of relief swept the camp, but Rick, Carl and Glenn stayed focused. Together the three of them worked, scanning their entire surroundings to ensure there were no other approaches. When they were confident, they turned off the floodlight and relaxed a little.

"Safety switch?"

"On."

"Good," Rick praised again, clapping Carl on the shoulder. He glanced down at the others, seeing that Abraham was directing everyone to pack up for the night. "Help Michonne check the perimeter, and then go to bed."

Carl nodded, jumping off the cabin roof and setting about his tasks. Contemplating the group at large, Rick watched as they packed up everything but their sleeping bags, making sure they were ready to run at a moment's notice. He looked to Rosita next, glad to see that she made Carrie stay seated, resting her foot. Finding a spare sleeping bag and old pillow, she set her up for the night before the two of them took their toothbrushes and headed off into the darkness, returning a few minutes later.

Glenn and Rick kept count of everyone who headed off to relieve themselves, listening carefully for the sound of Walkers. They went about this routine in absolute silence, knowing that with everyone scattered in the darkness, things could go badly. But soon enough they all returned, Michonne and Carl giving a thumbs up that the alarms to alert them for Walkers were still intact.

"Good night," Carl whispered, passing Rick his cup of coffee.

Ever protective, he watched as Carl opened his sleeping bag and lay down between Daryl and Michonne. Abraham was the last to turn in, placing a few sticks on the fire that was their only source of light and warmth. He stretched out in the back of the minivan and closed the door, a luxury afforded to him only because his snores attracted Walkers. Going against their usual arrangements, Rosita was sleeping next to Carrie instead of Abraham, keeping her company for her first night. Remembering to remain vigilant, Rick turned around and faced a different direction. He couldn't quite see Carl from this angle, but he had an unobscured view of Carrie and the area behind her. Glenn would keep watch on the other direction, and by default, Carl. Sharing a glance with Glenn, the two prepared for a long five hours on watch duty.

The night was uneventful, and therefore painfully dull. Every so often he and Glenn turned on the floodlight and scanned the field, finding no threat of any kind. The perimeter ropes were silent, and not even the breeze rattled the pieces of metal together. Longing for the nights spent in the prison towers, when the pair on watch could play cards or hold a conversation, Rick struggled to stay awake. Anytime he felt himself drifting off, Glenn would give a low whistle, forcing Rick to raise his head and respond in kind. They carried on this routine, keeping each other awake as the time slowly ticked forward to two o'clock when they would change over.

Just as Rick felt his eyelids growing heavy once again, a soft stirring from below caught his attention. He and Glenn both looked down to see Carrie slowly getting out of her sleeping bag, trying her best to be quiet and not wake anyone. She pulled on her boots and Rick's jacket, rubbing her eyes as she got to her feet.

"Carrie," Rick said lowly, getting her attention. She spun around and looked at him in surprise, perhaps having forgotten that there were people on watch. "What are you doing?"

She looked embarrassed as she answered. "I gotta pee."

"Wake Rosita," he instructed.

"I'm not going far," she whispered, not wanting to disturb anyone. "I'll only be a minute."

Rick shook his head. "You can't go alone. Wake Rosita, or I'll go with you."

Carrie hesitated, but slowly nodded in agreement, accepting his instructions. She turned back around and gave Rosita a gentle nudge, apologising profusely when she roused. Rick watched as Rosita sat up without complaint, slipping on her boots and checking her weapon. Yawning, Rosita looked round at Rick and then indicated where they were going. As the two of them disappeared, he and Glenn shared a look of boredom.

Barely a moment later Daryl began to stir, instincts alerting him to the departure of two group members. Sitting up in his sleeping bag, Daryl shook his head to rouse himself properly, and then stood up. He stretched his arms and then put a few more sticks onto the smouldering embers of their fire, finally moving around the group and waking Aidan with a gentle nudge of his boot.

"Come on man," Aidan groaned, looking at his watch. "It's not two o'clock yet."

"Harden up," Daryl muttered unsympathetically, lighting a cigarette and slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. He nudged Aidan again, a little harder this time. "C'mon. Glenn's drivin' t'morrow."

Aidan muttered a few more complaints before slowly sitting up, resting his head in his hands for a minute. Shaking his head, Daryl headed over to where Rick was situated, dangling his cigarette from his lips as he climbed up to take his place.

"Carl don' even complain as much as 'im," he muttered in annoyance, glancing down at Aidan.

"Come on now," Rick said quietly, glad that Daryl was taking over earlier than normal. Taking off the vest and jacket, he gave them back to their owner. "You know he's not like us."

Daryl grunted in agreement, looking around. His eyes fell on the two empty sleeping bags. "They takin' a piss?"

Rick nodded his head. "It's the most exciting thing that's happened all night."

"Good."

"Turn on the flood light once they're back," he requested, beginning to climb down. "Do a quick check."

"Yeh," Daryl nodded, stopping Rick before he got too far. "Carl's dreamin' or something…I dunno what's wrong."

"Thanks," Rick said, having noticed his son tossing and turning a little. Reaching the ground, he walked over and quietly told Aidan to get a move on, getting annoyed with him. Aidan finally got up took Glenn's place, a quick conversation between the two of them constituting a hand over. When Glenn came down and Rosita and Carrie returned, Rick kicked his boots off and checked the safety on his revolver, laying it by his head as he slipped into Daryl's unoccupied sleeping bag. Carl began to stir beside him, his eyes flickering open to look at Rick as he lay down.

Since arriving at Alexandria, the difficulty of settling in and the impact of their experiences had begun taking their toll on Carl. They all had nightmares, more so now that they had settled into a safe haven that contrasted their trauma, but Carl in particular. Rick was glad Carl had secretly requested they share a room in Alexandria, finding as much comfort sleeping next to his son as Carl did.

"You sleeping alright?" Rick asked in concern, brushing the hair off his son's forehead.

Carl nodded, turning over to face Rick before closing his eyes again. Seconds later he was asleep, the ease of this calming Rick's concern a little. He looked across the fire to where Carrie was taking a quick drink of water, still sitting up in her sleeping bag. She seemed to take a moment to herself, running her fingers through her hair before laying back down. As she turned, she caught Rick looking at her, her lips parting in momentary surprise. Nevertheless, a moment later she gave him a small smile.

"Good night," she mouthed to him.

He replied in turn, watching as she lay back down and got comfortable. Feeling content, he double checked his gun was in easy reach before he too closed his eyes. The excitement of the day and tiredness catching up to him, he found no trouble in falling straight asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning of their fourth day on the road dawned earlier than normal, the rising sun gently rousing their group from their slumber. The night had been quiet, the low whistles passed between the two on watch keeping everyone in a state of comfort and security. They roused one by one, drawn out yawns complementing the stretching of limbs.

Rick, who had slept restlessly next to Carl, roused only when he did. His eyes flickered open, one hand automatically reaching up to touch the revolver that lay by his head. Determining it's whereabouts, he looked at his watch and saw that it was just after six thirty. With a long sigh he closed his eyes again, feeling the heavy weight of a poor night's sleep resting on his chest.

"Do you want coffee?" Carl asked through a yawn, stretching out beside him.

Grunting, Rick nodded his head, glad for the offer. He stayed where he was, gaining precious minutes of shut eye until footsteps approached with the familiar aroma of instant coffee. Thanking Carl, he sat up and took the coffee, rubbing his eyes as he took a sip. As he had come to expect it was positively awful…how his son managed to screw up instant coffee was beyond his comprehension. Nevertheless, he knew better than to complain.

"Toast?" Carl offered next.

Rick smiled to himself, suspecting why Carl was being so generous. "Please."

Getting to his feet, Rick stretched out and looked around at the group, pleased to see that although everyone was awake and preparing a meagre breakfast, they were quiet and on alert. Walkers tended to be active in the early morning, the sudden change of light rousing them from the stupor some of them fell into during the night. He glanced over at Carrie, who was already holding a mug of her own. Sipping his coffee, he took note of the fact that Daryl was the only one on watch.

"How's things?" Rick asked, sitting on the minivan grill guard and looking up at Daryl.

"Quiet," he answered, scanning the field with the rifle. "Just waitin' for 'em to show up."

"They won't be long," Rick mused, wondering what the day ahead would bring. "What happened to Aidan?"

"Told him to 'ef off back to bed. He can't even manage a few hours on watch."

Rick didn't comment, not wanting to stir up any more conflict between his group and Aidan. "Is someone bringing you something to eat?"

"Michonne."

"Here you go, Dad," Carl interrupted them, handing him a piece of toast.

Rick accepted it, thanking him.

"Do you want me to get you some breakfast, Daryl?"

"It's comin'."

"Okay," Carl nodded, hanging around for a moment.

Rick tried not to smile, knowing his son's request was coming any minute now. As he waited, he observed his appearance, taking note of the light shadows beneath his eyes. He hadn't slept well, and so by default neither had Rick. The haircut he and Jessie had forced upon him had revealed more of his face these days, showing how his features were quickly changing and developing into that of a young man. He was going on fifteen in a few short months, but the people of Alexandria were constantly overestimating his age. Just like his sister, Carl was growing like a weed.

"Is the coffee alright?"

"Yeah," Rick lied. "Thanks."

Carl nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rick cut him off.

"No."

"No?"

"I know what you want…and the answer's still no."

Carl groaned, wounded by his efforts going to waste. "Come on, Dad…"

Rick shook his head, choking down a sip of the coffee. Awful or not, it would keep him awake that day. "I said maybe you can drive on the way back, when we know the roads are clear."

His shoulders slumped, Carl nodded in defeat. "Alright…on the way home."

"Maybe," he reiterated. "If Abraham says yes."

Nodding, Carl looked into the minivan. "I want to ride with Michonne today."

"That's fine," Rick acquiesced, seeing her walking up behind him. "She won't let you drive, either."

"Yes, she will," Carl argued playfully, unaware of her approach. He started walking backwards, grinning. "She works for me, not you…"

"Does she now?" she asked darkly, her tone surprising Carl and making him jump. She held a glare on her face for barely a moment, her facade cracking as she started laughing.

Rick looked away, trying not to laugh at his son's expense. Carl muttered in embarrassment and stalked off, leaving Rick to enjoy the fruits of his bribery. He ate slowly, while Michonne passed Daryl a few pieces of toast and a coffee before joining Rick on the grill guard.

"Is Carl alright?" she asked in concern. "He was tossing and turning."

He wished he knew the answer to that. "He's been dreaming a lot the last few weeks…nightmares, I think."

"Want me to talk to him today?"

"If you think it'll help."

"Hmmm," she murmured. She absently looked around at the group, a habit they had all developed. "Rosita's driving the removal truck today, Abraham's not feeling too well."

"Okay."

"Glenn will drive the minivan I think. Aidan wants the very back to sleep. Carl and I will amuse ourselves…I'll help with the driving."

"Okay."

"Tobin, Nicholas and Aaron in the sedan."

"Mmm."

"Where do you want Carrie?" she enquired.

Rick considered this carefully, having known the question was coming. Given how much more comfortable she seemed with Michonne or Rosita, he should request that she ride in the minivan or removal truck. But with Abraham not feeling well he would want to stretch out and sleep. There was a spare seat in the minivan, but if Michonne was going to try and talk to Carl that day…She could ride with Tobin and Aaron…

Thinking back to last night, he remembered the frustration of standing back and letting the others question Carrie, annoyed by how superficial their questions were. He was not completely satisfied, and there were more questions to be asked…he still had no gut instinct to guide him, nothing that was telling him what to think. That's what made him so apprehensive about her…having no instinct to warn him away. But at the same time, maybe his lack of instinct meant that it was alright…that too made him apprehensive. Christ. He didn't know what to think.

"Tell her she can ride with me and Daryl," he decided, forcing himself to eat the last of his toast even though he didn't want it. "I'll keep talking to her…see if she slips up with a lie or anything."

Michonne raised her eyebrows, and Rick knew what she was thinking. "Yeah, I know," he began. "I'm paranoid and suspicious."

"I get it," she said supportively. "But you really think she's much of a threat?"

"She's been living in the same world we have," Rick sighed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he thought back to the things he had done in the past, the things he was still capable of doing. "She comes across as a normal person, but so do we. Two months ago I tore a man's neck out with my teeth. To look at me now would you think that?"

Considering this, Michonne frowned. "No," she admitted

"Okay then…we're on the same page?" he asked, looking between she and Daryl.

As he knew he would, Daryl paused before nodding. Michonne was even slower to agree, but she did. Tipping out the remainder of his coffee, Rick made to depart. "I'm going to check the gas."

"Rick," Michonne stopped him. "What's it going to take for us to trust her?"

His eyes searching the group for Carrie, he found her. She stood by the removal truck now, refilling bottles of water from the canteen. Although they had told her to rest, to let them look after her, she was already trying to pull her weight.

"I don't know just yet," he admitted, looking back at Michonne. "But when I know…I'll know."

"Just…" she began, unsure of whether or not she should continue. "Give her a chance, alright…you gave me one."

Remembering his initial distrust of Michonne, Rick nodded his head in agreement. He departed, heading back to the group and helping to supervise the final pack up. There wasn't much to do, and even though this was only their third morning packing up, they had developed a quick and efficient routine. As Carl rolled up the remaining sleeping bags and dispersed them evenly around each car, Tobin and Aidan packed up their main tub of food, hauling it up into the removal truck. The cars had their gas tanks topped up the day before, but Nicholas was double checking them while Aaron helped Carrie carry the water around to each car. Feeling momentarily displaced, Rick sought out Glenn and found him with the map spread on the hood of the sedan, he and Abraham looking over it.

"Silverpine today?" he enquired.

"That's the plan," Abraham declared, pointing it out on the map. "Should only take us three to four hours."

"With detours?"

"Yes…we'll be taking this turn off here, sticking to the back roads. If luck is in our favour, we'll be at the prison by this afternoon…probably tomorrow morning though."

Rick nodded, keeping his frustration hidden. Their progress was slower than anticipated, and luck was rarely in their favour. Then again…luck had gotten them this far.

"Carl wants to ride with Michonne in the van," he told Glenn. He didn't need to explain any further. It was an unspoken request, that as the driver of that van he look out for Carl.

Glenn nodded. "I'll see if Aaron will drive in the lead instead, just incase. But when we get there, I'll have to take the minivan to look around…it's got better acceleration than the sedan."

"Yes."

"We'll stop before we go in…send Carl to your car."

"Thank you," Rick said, already anticipating the annoyed huffs Carl would give after being told he had to wait back while Michonne and Glenn scouted the town.

"We still need the police station?" Abraham asked, lowering his voice.

Rick nodded, he and Glenn exchanging a glance. "Yes…we've got to get some listening devices."

The thought of spying on Deanna in her own home did not sit well with Rick. The last four weeks had only proven that Alexandria was not some kind of trap, and that Deanna appeared to be of stable mind and conscience. But he thought of Andrea, and how easily she had been deceived by the Governor. They had lost everything because of that…because Rick hadn't acted when he should have. He was determined not to make that mistake again. If that meant he had to spy on Deanna, then he was going to do it.

Seeing Aidan nearby, they said nothing more on the topic, Abraham folding up the map. "I'll show this to Tobin…see if he can navigate for us. All the cars got gassed up?" Suddenly he winced, putting his hand on his lower stomach.

"Feelin' alright?"

Abraham took a deep breath, finally shaking his head. "The possum is getting his revenge…I'm going to be indisposed for a while…"

"We'll make time. I'll finish the checks," Rick said, seeing Glenn take the map instead. "Make sure you tell Daryl where you're heading."

"Wouldn't do well to be shot with my pants down," Abraham grumbled, pulling a face as he stalked off.

Preparing for departure, Rick went from vehicle to vehicle, triple checking their gas levels and that they each had sufficient food and water, just incase the groups got separated. He was disappointed to note that the removal truck had used more gas than they anticipated, even though they had done all they could to preserve the precious resource. He knew Aaron had scouted these areas out very well, that there were gas stations where they could completely gas up, but it certainly put Rick on edge. The removal truck would only use more and more as they added to the load it carried. He dreaded the possibility that they might have to abandon it, to hide it somewhere and double back for it.

Trying not to think about absolutely everything that could go wrong, he kicked dirt over the last embers of the fire and then listened as Glenn talked everyone through the plans for that day, detailing their expected route and travel time. Ever curious, Rick watched Carrie as she listened carefully, constantly turning the bottle of water over and over in her hands. She definitely hung onto the water at all times…she knew what it was to go without. At his request she was still wearing his jacket, feeling the cold weather more than the others.

A short while later Abraham returned to the camp, immediately excusing himself to go lay down in the front of the removal truck. They completed their final task of packing up the Walker alarms before everyone began heading off to the vehicles. Rick watched as Carrie spoke to Michonne, who nodded and then pointed towards the Dodge.

"Michonne says I'm with you?" she enquired, heading towards him.

"That's right," he agreed, surprised by her demeanour. She didn't seem at all put out to be travelling without Rosita or Michonne's company, that she would be with Rick and Daryl again. Her confidence and sense of security had doubled over night, the group's apparent acceptance of her helping her settle in. "You can take the front."

"Okay," she agreed, watching as Daryl collapsed across the backseat and kicked his boots off.

"Carl," Rick called out, catching him at the last minute before he got into the minivan.

"Yeah, yeah," Carl called back, already knowing what he was going to say. "Seatbelt."

"Thank you."

As he always did, Rick lingered a moment, watching and waiting until the car doors closed and the engines started successfully. Pleased that they were getting back on the road early, he brushed his hand over his revolver before taking the driver's seat and starting the engine of the Dodge. Adjusting the seat backwards, he followed the others as they one by one pulled onto the road. Aaron led the way, followed by Glenn in the minivan, Rosita in the removal truck, and Rick bringing up the rear as usual. Their convoy accelerated until they reached their optimum speed for gas conservation…painfully slow from Rick's perspective, but a necessary annoyance.

Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, he glanced at Carrie who sat beside him in the passenger seat, wondering how to initiate their conversation. Thinking about the previous day, when he had spent so long staring at her that he had run over a Walker, he resolved to pay better attention to the road today.

Clenching his jaw, Rick felt was going to be a long drive.

* * *

Still walking around as though in a dream, Carrie followed Rick's instructions, taking the front passenger seat of the Dodge. As it had yesterday, it felt strange to be climbing inside of a car, to be seeking refuge inside of a vehicle that would actually be running. Many times she had slept inside abandoned cars, finding shelter from the wind and rain as well as the Biters. Those were the few occasions she had actually slept properly, a nice change from the hour or so of restless sleep she usually managed before pushing herself to her feet and carrying on. Last night too had been a pleasant change, warm inside a sleeping bag and safe with the security of other people surrounding her. Picturing where she had been twenty four hours ago, laying beneath an overgrown bush without the will to go on, accepting the reality of the present was even more difficult.

Daryl was stretched out on the backseat, his shoes kicked off and his arm slung over his eyes. In the footwell beside him was his crossbow, unloaded at the moment, but sure to be ready at a moment's notice. He appeared to fall asleep with ease, unconcerned about the world outside the car, but Carrie knew better than to presume he didn't understand what was out there. Already she could tell the difference between Rick's group and Aaron's. One group had been sheltered, somehow managing to avoid the worst of what the outbreak had done to people, while the other had probably seen it all. Daryl's ease in falling asleep was not complacency, but a practicality. If there was opportunity to sleep safely, one must take it.

Eager to get going, Carrie watched as Rick called out something to Carl, who was swinging himself into the backseat of the minivan. He called back with a reply, suddenly laughing at something Michonne said before slamming the sliding door closed. As everyone else got into their vehicles and started their engines, Rick lingered outside the driver's side door. He watched as Carl pulled his seatbelt on before casting his eyes around, appearing to do yet another check that they had all their supplies.

It was becoming increasingly clear to Carrie that Rick was indeed the leader. Even though there were others in clear leadership, such as Aaron in charge of his people and Abraham in charge of the supply run, Rick was their leader. They frequently defaulted to him for the final decision, like Aaron consulting him on the place they would stay the night, and Abraham discussing their route. Like many who carried a gun, Rick brushed his hand over the handle before opening the driver's door and taking his seat. Adjusting the seat backwards, he followed the others out onto the road, casting Carrie a quick glance after they had sped up.

"Radio check," Rosita's voice though their radios.

Carrie listened as the others radioed back, checking their signals. She tried to pick out the other two voices, but only recognised Glenn's. Rick picked up their radio from the middle console and raised it. He paused at the last minute and glanced over at her again. To her surprise, he held it out to her.

"Here…hold down the button on the right."

"What do I say?" she asked, taking it from him.

"Radio check…then release the button."

She did as instructed, and then put it back down into the console between them. There was a long pause, the radio quiet as each car took count of the responses.

"Rick?" an unfamiliar voice came down the radio. "Try not to hit any more Walkers today, alright?"

Pursing her lips, Carrie tried not to smile. It was difficult, however, given the way the corner of Rick's mouth curled. Almost hidden by his stubble, she only just noticed it. Feeling bold, she picked up the radio and held down the button to speak.

"I'll try to make sure he doesn't pick up any more strays, too."

"Oh come on now, Carrie" another voice came. Was that Glenn? "You're not as bad as the stray I brought back from a supply run in Atlanta."

"Oh yeah?" Carrie asked, watching Rick's expression sour.

"Yeah," Glenn replied. "I brought home some dumb ass who rode a horse into a city full of Walkers."

Carrie raised her eyebrows, looking to Rick for his reaction. There was a joke here, and judging by the expression on Rick's face, he was it. "Were you the dumb ass?"

With reluctance, Rick nodded. "Yes."

"You're going to have to tell me more about this, Glenn. Seems like a story I'd like to hear."

Daryl sat up in the back seat, gesturing to Carrie for the radio. He snatched it from her, growling unhappily. "How 'bout some fuckin' radio silence, alrigh'?"

"Sorry," Carrie apologised, relieved that Rick rolled his eyes. She wasn't in trouble, not really anyway.

Daryl just grunted, laying back down and putting his bare feet up on the windows.

"You alright back there, Pookie?" Rick teased. "You need a blankie? A bed time story?"

A middle finger appeared in the rear vision mirror. "Yeah, why don' you tell me about that time I kicked your ass."

"You've never kicked my ass."

"I'm sure I have…"

As Daryl muttered to himself, he threw his arm across his eyes and got comfortable. Putting the radio back into the centre console, Carrie too made herself comfortable, taking a drink of water as a comfortable silence fell. Although not even a light snore passed his lips, it was clear Daryl was asleep a few minutes later, his body relaxed and languid on the back seat. Glenn had explained their plans for Silverpine that day, a brief stop where they would gas up and scavenge for supplies, but she had missed how long it would take them to reach it. Mentally prepared for a long drive, Carrie glanced at Rick from the corner of her eye, knowing the reason he had requested her company in his car that day.

Naturally he would want to talk to her a little more. The brief recital of her life story the previous night had only skimmed the surface. If he was the one who had the final stay about whether she could join their camp when the group returned, he would want to know more about her. And not just her life before the outbreak, but where she had been after, the people she had been with. The questions he had asked her yesterday were not entirely different to the ones she had asked people before. They were necessary to determine one's true nature, their genuine intentions. Her stomach twisting, she thought about the lie she had told him yesterday, the one truth she was certain she could never tell him. Thinking about the things she had done, she knew she would never tell anyone.

She had heard what Rick told Carl yesterday, to never turn his back on her. She had been feigning heavy sleep, hoping to hear something said about her that would indicate what the group was thinking…she needed to know if they were going to take advantage of her, if their generosity was from the goodness of their hearts or an ulterior motive. The only thing that had bothered her was the instructions that she was not to be trusted, that she was not to be given a weapon. Since that moment, the pocket of the jeans she wore felt painfully bare without her knife, her meagre protection from any sort of attack.

Nevertheless, Carrie knew she was on to a good thing. The group seemed solid, even though it was clear they liked some more than others, and on the surface they appeared to still possess the basic humanity that others did not. There had been indications of that the moment she and Rick had met, the first time they had spoken. He offered her the basic necessity of water, even offered to give her food and a pack if she didn't want to join them. That night the group had taken care of her, had given her food and more clothing, and Rick had personally tended to her injured foot. Those were not the actions of a group without humanity, and while she understood why she would remain untrusted, and therefore unarmed, she couldn't help but feel stung.

She wished she could demonstrate to them the type of person she really was…they didn't know what she had done for other people in the past. She had been part of groups before, she knew how to play by rules. Not only that, but she had protected people…taken in complete strangers and helped carry the burden of an extra mouth to feed. But she understood their perspective. She couldn't just hand them her apocalypse resume and expect them to welcome her into their fold. Some of these people had been together since the very start…over eighteen months now. A stranger didn't just come in on that without hurdles.

"How's your foot?" Rick asked.

His question was sudden, breaking the comfortable silence. A little taken by surprise, it took Carrie a moment to answer.

"It's better, thank you," she said sincerely.

Every step she had taken since he had drained the blisters had been a relief, having forgotten how easy it was to walk normally. She could have treated her injuries herself long ago, but she had been too afraid. With nothing clean to wrap the wounds in, she feared an infection might develop if it got too dirty. She was already covered in Biter guts, her hands too…could she somehow infect herself through an open blister? Not taking any chances, she hadn't even tried.

"It's nice being able to walk properly," she remarked, feeling as though she needed to say something else.

Rick nodded to himself, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "They looked sore," he noted. He appeared to be in deep though, looking at her before he continued. "When we were on the road, Carl had bad blisters on the back of his heels. His socks were worn right through."

"I remember him saying you weren't that gentle with his."

Laughing shortly, Rick nodded his head. "Well he sure complained a lot for some one who got to wear my boots."

There was a short pause, Carrie wondering how to break the silence. "I'd uhh…love to hear that dumb ass on a horse story."

Rick shook his head, trying not to smile. "No, I can't take that pleasure away from Glenn. He loves tellin' it. In my defence, he does tend to exaggerate certain points," he added. There was another slight pause, Rick looking at her before looking back to the road. "I'd like to hear your story though."

"I thought you might," she agreed. Thinking back to the previous night, and how difficult it had been to even know where to start, she took a deep breath. "Where should I start? Before or after?"

"During," he requested. "Where were you when it started?"

Sighing, Carrie put her elbow up on the window sill and got comfortable. She remembered that day with absolute clarity, the fear and uncertainty ingrained in her. As best she could, she started recounting her story of the early days, about how her biggest problem was clients changing their mind about promotional strategies, not the outbreak of dead people everyone was talking about.

"I wasn't really paying attention to the news…I was being head hunted by another agency. When I realised how serious it was," she continued. "I grabbed my handbag and walked two hours to the airport…My parents hadn't answered my calls for two days. I thought they were just busy. I managed to get a flight to Orlando…I was going to just rent a car and then drive down to Miami."

"The airports were still open?" he questioned in surprise, glancing at her. A hint of suspicion lingered in his eyes. He wasn't the first to question this part of her story.

"Not for long. My flight should have only taken three and a half hours…by the time they diverted us to Atlanta, we'd been in the air for seven. Everyone was so pissed off, worried about their families, demanding a refund."

Rick laughed at this, scratching his cheek a little. "Christ…I wish I could worry about money."

Echoing his laugh, Carrie agreed. "We sat on the tarmac in Atlanta for another two hours. It was dark, so we had no idea what was going on outside. Eventually they opened the emergency exits. As soon as I got off, I wished I hadn't…I really had no idea what had been going on."

"Keep going," he requested, noticing when she didn't immediately continue.

"Two days later, I was picked up by someone from the Red Cross. I'd been hiding in a dumpster," she laughed, thinking about how naive she'd once been. "I told myself that things would be fine from now on…that it couldn't possibly get worse than hiding in a dumpster."

Rick laughed again, no doubt knowing how much worse it could get. "Sorry," he apologised.

"Don't be. I wasn't naive for long. The guy who found me told me he needed my help. I could tell he knew something I didn't. He and I picked up every person we could fit in his van, and then somehow we got out of Atlanta. They started bombing it that night…I think he knew."

"They were your group?"

"For a few months, yeah. We wanted to head for Birmingham, but we ran out of gas pretty quick. Ended up just camping out…almost started to forget what we were up against."

"Almost?"

She gave a grim smile, picking at a loose thread on Rosita's shirt. "We thought we were safe where we were…the terrain was high, Biters didn't often go uphill. But eventually they just chipped away at our numbers. We lost one or two at a time…then there were only five of us. So we took our chances on the road. Had no idea where we were going. We just wanted to be going somewhere.

"I had a second group too, for a while. After a while came across one house that had this enormous stock pile just sitting in the garage…the woman who lived there was some kind of coupon addict. We group stayed in that neighbourhood. It was actually kind of safe there."

"If it was safe, then how did you end up on your own?"

"When you've got something good, these days it just means someone else will come for it." This remark caught Rick's attention, Carrie watching as his forearms tensed up a little. "Another group came at us, wanted our supplies. I managed to negotiate with them…but even that only lasted so long."

"You managed to negotiate with them?" he asked curiously. "Were you the leader?"

Nodding grimly, she gave her answer. "Only by default."

"What happened with this other group?"

She paused, wondering what to say. "The deal we made went bad…I decided to just move on. We'd heard broadcasts over the radio for weeks, talk about some place that was supposed to be safe. We'd talked about going just before the other group came in on us. I decided I wanted to go. Some of the others came with me."

"What was this place?" he asked lowly, his tone changing. "What was it called?"

Looking at him, she tried to gauge what he was thinking, concerned by his change of tone. "Terminus."

"You were there?" he asked suddenly, looking at her. His face was angry now, his jaw clenched as he stared her down.

Surprised, Carrie's mouth gaped a little. "No," she said quickly, starting to wonder what she had said wrong. "Well, yes."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice escalating. "Either you were there or you weren't? Which is it?"

The sudden change in Rick's demeanour alarmed her, his abruptness rendering her speechless. She looked at him dumbly, trying to think of an answer to what he was asking, trying to form the words. For the first time since yesterday she began to feel afraid again, wondering what she had gotten herself in to. Until now, none of them had raised their voice to her, particularly Rick, who had tried so hard to put her at ease. But the way he was looking at her now…he was angry, his eyes staring at her as he waited for an answer that wasn't coming.

He swore under his breath and looked back at the road, his features softening as he realised he had upset her. Releasing the breath she had been holding, Carrie began to compose herself, looking away from him. A long moment passed in silence, Rick watching her from the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said quietly, not looking at him.

There was another long moment of silence before Rick continued. "Did you go to Terminus?"

Carrie nodded her head, steeling herself as she began to explain. "Only four of us made it there. It was fall by the time we got there on foot…we kept watch on it from a distance. We expected to see people outside, but we couldn't see anyone. Tim and Ross…they made Sue and I wait back while they went in."

"You didn't go in?

"No," she shook her head. "They said if everything was okay, they'd come and get us before sun down. We waited all night, and all of the next day. But we couldn't wait forever…"

"You did the right thing." Rick's voice was reassuring now, betraying a knowledge she didn't possess.

She scoffed at this. "Didn't feel that way." Looking at him now, she searched his features for an indication of what he knew. "Did you go to Terminus too?"

To her surprise, Rick actually answered, giving a brief nod of his head.

"What was there?"

He glanced around at her now, his face impassive. "Nothing worth waiting for."

Although she had suspected as much, the confirmation was difficult to digest. Her good mood had depleted now, and she prayed Rick didn't try to make her talk any more. But as it rarely was, luck wasn't on her side that day.

"So then it was just you and one other?" he enquired, still pressing her for information.

The ease of Rick's company was gone now, and even though his voice was kinder now, she wished she was riding in one of the other cars. "Yes," she answered.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks. We managed to find cars that would run…sometimes even gas. We made it a fair way before we got separated."

"That was when you were attacked?" he pressed gently.

"Yes."

"Those men," he continued, a frown marring his face. "You said to me yesterday that they tried to claim you?"

Her throat tightened the way it always did when she thought of that night. Carrie remembered the victorious shout of "claimed" that preceded her being wrenched from the first decent sleep she'd had in weeks. Even now she could remember the drawling voice that informed her she was claimed, the revolting feel of her would be rapist's hands all over her. Thinking back, she remembered the look on Carl's face when he had asked her about those men, and Rosita's suspicions about what might have happened to him. Her speculation that they had been attacked by the same group might not be too far wrong.

"Yes," she answered. Feeling bold, she posed a question to Rick. "Are they the same group who attacked you? Did they attack Carl?"

Surprise crossed his features, having not expected her to ask so bluntly. "They only tried," he said cryptically.

Looking into her lap, she commented bitterly, "Small world."

"Yeah."

"How did you get away?" she enquired.

Rick didn't answer. He spared her a quick glance before looking back at the road, falling silent. It was clear he didn't want to talk about that, Rosita had said as much last night, but her curiosity was not satisfied. Nevertheless she ignored the unanswered question, hoping this would be the end to their conversation. It clearly was, Rick staying silent for the rest of their drive. The comfortable ease with which they had started their journey was gone now, the two of them sitting side by side as tension filled the space between them. Nevertheless, she could feel his gaze upon her, noticing the odd occasions when he glanced over at her, his eyes lingering for some reason. She didn't engage him, pretending her attention was focused on the scenery passing by.

When they stopped for a break half an hour later, Carrie was relieved, needing space and fresh air. Feeling unwell, Abraham leapt down from the cabin of the truck and headed off into the woods, clutching a roll of toilet paper as Rosita reluctantly followed him to keep watch. Everyone else hung around, heading off into the woods in small groups so that they too could relieve themselves. With Rosita occupied, Michonne accompanied Carrie for a short trip into the woods, but they made only polite small talk. When they returned, Rick and Carl leant against the hood of the Dodge, talking quietly. The two of them stood side by side, both of them having folded their arms across their chests. Carrie wondered if father and son knew they were mimicking one another's stance, if it was something they did all the time.

For a moment she worried they were talking about the men who had attacked them, if Rick was relaying something she had told him. Before she could worry too much, Carl barked out a laugh, unfolding his arms and nudging his father playfully. Rick just rolled his eyes and shrugged, flicking Carl's hat off his head and smirking as it fell to the ground. It was strange to watch, especially given the abrupt way his demeanour had changed not so long ago.

Waiting patiently, Carrie stood in the centre of the road, looking each way and remembering the previous day. It had barely been twenty four hours since Rick had picked her up, and that was a strange concept to comprehend. Twenty four hours ago, she had stood in the centre of the road and looked down blankly, the painted white line anchoring her to the earth. Then here she was now, doing the same thing, but under entirely different circumstances. By the time Abraham and Rosita returned thirty minutes later, Carrie was immensely relieved when they started returning to the cars. She had spent enough time standing in the middle of the road.

"You okay riding with him?" Michonne asked her, gesturing to Rick.

Looking over at him, she observed Rick and Daryl talking, the latter of which was finishing a cigarette and looking highly annoyed by something. He tilted his head as Rick talked, and this time Carrie was certain he was talking about her…Daryl turned around and glanced at her, shrugging his shoulders and turning back to Rick. She felt increasingly intimated, especially given the abruptness of the way Rick's demeanour had changed not so long ago.

"I'm fine," she assured Michonne. "Thanks."

Heading back to the Dodge, Carrie was quietly relieved when she saw Carl coming to join them, while Daryl went ahead to a different car.

"You want the front seat?" she offered Carl.

"No it's okay," he replied, stretching out in the back just as Daryl had done. "I don't mind the back."

As usual, Rick was the last to enter his vehicle, making sure everyone else got in and started off. The moment he got into the car, he looked into the backseat and made Carl put his seatbelt on.

"Can we listen to Daft Punk again?" Carl requested, putting his belt on.

"No," Rick sighed in annoyance.

"But-"

"I told you to borrow Ron's iPod," he reminded him patiently.

There was a short pause. Leaning forward, Carl rested each elbow on the top of each front seat, peering over his father's shoulder. "I'm sure Carrie won't mind."

"Don't bring me into this!" she protested hastily, still digesting the news that someone named Ron had an iPod.

"Come on Dad," Carl pleaded. "I'll tell her your real name."

Carl's threat sparked Carrie's interest, and she gauged Rick's expression, wondering how he would react. His face betrayed a flicker of discomfort, his lips pursing momentarily and he looked in the rear vision mirror.

"No, you won't."

"I will…I'll tell everyone your real name."

Rick just shook his head, strumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he swerved around an old tyre on the road. "That threat didn't work during Monopoly, and it won't work now. You'll have nothing left to use against me."

"Well…I'll do you a deal. One song from Daft Punk, and then-"

"No," he repeated himself, sounding a little weary. "You can have anything other than them. Anything."

"How come y-"

"Because I said so."

Forcing herself to keep her face straight, Carrie looked at Carl from the corner of her eyes. He was looking at her, his lips pursed as he tried to think. "The Rubens?" he asked her. She hadn't heard of that particular band, but she nodded her head anyway. "The Rubens then," Carl declared, sitting back happily.

Collecting the CD from the glove compartment, Carrie could no longer hide her amusement at the two of them, cracking a smile as Rick ejected Daft Punk from the stereo and threatened to throw it out the window. He reluctantly passed it back for her to return to the glove compartment, but Carl's shout of protest still echoed in their ears. The moment was over soon enough, the music starting to play and negating the need for conversation, but it broke the ice just enough.

It seemed to be her turn to watch Rick now, as he was apparently focused on the road for once. Every now and then she glanced his way, still trying to figure him out. God, it was hard to keep up with him, to predict what he was going to say or do next. She could tell, however, that although his earlier demeanour had appeared to change on the turn of a dime, he must behave differently around his son. Here he was now…joking around…it was difficult to keep up with, difficult to know how to act. In fact, he had now changed tact completely, appearing relaxed and humorous. Still, a small part of her still wished she was riding with someone else instead.

Their conversation earlier had been tense towards the end, but she took comfort in the fact that Rick wouldn't bring any of that up while Carl was in the car with them. She felt like she was scattered all over the place, and she didn't quite know how to act or feel. One minute she was perfectly comfortable around Rick, and then something changed and she felt the sting of intimidated, even fear. Settling in for a long ride, Carrie looked out the window and focused on keeping herself together.


	6. Chapter 6

The small city of Silverpine was silent as the convoy of cars slowly passed through, easily making their way down the streets that had been cleared long ago. Vehicles were abandoned at random, just like everywhere else, but prior to their arrival others had cleared a path, making way for other survivors to pass through with greater ease. Michonne and the others had found no trouble when they had scouted out the city alone, and had been able to complete a thorough check of the surroundings suburbs. Though they came across various Walkers, there appeared to be no unexpected herds that would take them by surprise.

Reassured, Rosita, Aaron and Rick had willingly followed the minivan into the city, quietly surprised by the ease in which they passed through. They headed for the central business district, stopping their vehicles in a formation that would allow for a quick escape should things go wrong. As he turned the engine off, Rick allowed himself a few moments to pause and consider their surroundings. The roads were typical of a small country town that had grown into a city, generously wide and allowing for good lines of sight in all directions. Carl waited for no one, eagerly getting out of the car and heading off to join the others. Carrie on the other hand, hesitated, seeing that Rick wasn't moving.

"Everything alright?" she asked, glancing around to look for what made him hesitate.

Glancing to his right, he gave her a reassuring nod. Their drive that day had been tense for a little while, his reaction to the news she had been to Terminus being a little too abrupt. He couldn't deny that fear had filled him when her story turned in that direction, his mind running off and creating a whole different scenario. For a few moments it seemed his concerns that she was someone untrustworthy were substantiated, that like so many others she had made her home within the confines of Terminus' fences. In that brief moment Rick had already decided her fate, knowing that at the very least he would stop the car and kick her out on the side of the road. If she was lucky that would be all. But it was the look on her face that made him stop, the flicker of fear in her eyes that reminded him of her state of mind the previous day. His abrupt words had scared her…she at least deserved to be able to explain herself.

Grateful that Carrie hadn't ever gone into Terminus, Rick removed the keys from the ignition and put them behind the sun visor, ensuring they were available if any of them needed to make a quick escape. Waiting for her, he checked his revolver out of habit before they joined the others. Keeping an eye on Carl, who had wandered off to peer down the intersections, Rick listened quietly, allowing the others to outline their plans for that day. He exchanged a glance with Glenn, Michonne and Daryl, glad that after so long together they could communicate without words.

"Carrie," Daryl grunted. "You're with me and Rosita." Although Daryl was definitely coming across as surly, Carrie nodded without complaint.

"I'll guard the vehicles," Abraham volunteered, still not feeling his best.

"Carl, we're on food," Michonne declared, waving him over. "Grab a pack."

"Glenn and I will check out the Police station," Rick decided.

"You sure there'll still be guns left?" Aidan questioned.

"Probably not many," he admitted. "But maybe in the evidence room."

A few minutes later each group departed, their instructions to meet back in that spot within one hour clear in their minds. Rick hung back a few moments, making Carl check his gun and ensuring he had spare magazines. As he always did, he watched as Carl and Michonne departed, heading for a minimart where they hoped to find some food. She nudged him playfully, and they both laughed quietly as they turned the corner. The concern for his son and the potential for things to go wrong so suddenly weighed on Rick's mind as he turned and headed in the opposite direction, he and Glenn making their way to the quaint Police station a few blocks down.

The stench of death lingered in the town, the streets littered with abandoned cars and the occasional corpse. It was clear that others had been through here before, as indicated by the cleared roads and various broken windows. Each store had been plundered at some stage, people scavenging for things they most desperately needed. Passing each store and looking inside, Rick wondered what had become of the people who had passed through here before them, wondering if they were still alive. The melancholy of such a question floored him every time it was raised, the spectre of imminent death having never confronted him so strongly before he was first shot. For so long it had been a daily thought, a frequent possibility to be considered.

Daryl, Rosita and Carrie were a little ahead of them, marching down the street and looking into the various windows. He didn't suspect that they would find much useful, the town had been pillaged long ago, but something caught their interest across the street. Observing the way Carrie followed Daryl and Rosita across the road without hesitation, he hoped they didn't run into any trouble, though he knew they were capable of handling themselves. Daryl rapped his knuckles against the window of a camping store, his crossbow raised as the three of them waited for anything inside to reveal itself. A moment later Daryl lowered his crossbow and stepped through the broken store window, turning back to help Carrie through.

He caught Rick's eye as he looked back out onto the street, jerking his head in acknowledgement. Noticing, Carrie looked around in surprise as he and Glenn walked past on the other side of the street. Glenn raised his hand with a quick wave, frowning when Rick didn't echo the gesture. His gaze lingered on Carrie until she finally turned away, following Rosita and Daryl into the camping store. Thoroughly spent from their conversation that morning, Rick took solace in the comfortable silence he and Glenn shared.

"So, what gives?"

Scowling at the ground, Rick sighed. "I was just thinking about how peaceful the silence was."

Glenn gave a short laugh. "Nothing lasts…so come on. You figured her out yet?"

He shrugged, still unsure. "She went to Terminus," he told Glenn, whose expression darkened the same way Daryl's had when he told him. "Didn't actually go in though. Two of her group went in first to check it out, she and one other waited outside."

"She was lucky," Glenn commented lowly, pausing to look into a pharmacy with bare shelves. "Did you tell her what it was?"

"That two of her group were eaten by cannibals while she waited outside? No. I couldn't."

"You couldn't?"

He shook his head. "I think I scared her a little when she told me about it. I didn't exactly react in a…friendly manner."

"Oh," Glenn nodded, leaving it at that. "So, you've figured her out then?"

Again, Rick shrugged uncertainly, but he gave an answer anyway. "Sure…let's say I have."

Glenn nodded, likely knowing he wasn't going to get much more out of him. "So, you did a stint at this station?" he enquired, pointedly changing the subject.

Rick nodded, glad for the new topic. "Just for a week. Do you remember the riots they had in Atlanta a few years back?"

"Yeah," Glenn muttered darkly. "It was my first week delivering pizzas."

"They deployed officers from every county nearby, including this one. I hadn't updated my riot training in a while, so I got sent here to help cover shifts."

Silence fell again. Checking his watch, Rick and Glenn rounded a final corner and came upon the Police station, but what he saw there made his heart sink.

"Dammit," he sighed, his shoulders dropping.

"What?" Glenn asked, stopping in his tracks.

"It's new…" he said, gesturing to the modern building down the road. "The station I knew was just a couple of old houses next to each other."

The two of them stood there for a moment, letting the gravity of the modern building sink in. A modern police station would mean the locks were new, and probably electronic. If it hadn't been left open, they would have great difficulty getting inside.

"Damn urban planning," Glenn muttered, trying to rouse a laugh from Rick.

Unable to help it, Rick smiled and nodded his head.

"Should we even bother?" Glenn asked, standing on the spot and looking around the streets. A couple of blocks past the Police station, a Walker had spotted them. "There're some bars back the way we came…they might have a few guns."

Scratching the back of his head, Rick considered the Police station before him, finally shaking his head. "This might actually be a good thing…it'll be all electronic locks, so it might not have been touched since the city fell."

"Would there be a generator for the doors?"

Rick shook his head, turning back the way they had come. "We're going to need some batteries…we found some the other day, right?"

"Yeah, they're in the truck."

In comfortable silence, they set off back to the convoy, each of them on constant alert for any sign their group might be in trouble. As it was before, all was quiet except for the occasional shuffle and moan of a Walker. They took down two as they returned to the vehicles, Rick wiping his machete clean as they returned to find Abraham seated on the top of the truck.

"A bust?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Rick muttered, giving Glenn a leg up onto the truck. "It's a new station…we're going to need batteries to open the doors."

This roused Abraham's interest. "Batteries for the doors? That mean it's probably untouched?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he repeated, not wanting to get anyone's hopes up, least of all his own. Climbing up onto the truck too, Rick headed for their toolkit, taking with him a small flathead and phillips head screw driver. "We're going to take a car," he decided as they both jumped down.

"Alright," Abraham nodded, scanning the streets with binoculars. "Do you need more than an hour?"

Considering the potential size of the station, Rick nodded his head. "Maybe."

"Radio me if you want more people when they come back."

Without further fuss, Rick and Glenn jumped in the car and headed off, driving slowly so as to keep the engine quiet. Thirty seconds later they reached the police station and entered the driveway, following it past the formidable building of glass and concrete. Rick kicked himself mentally…how could he have not expected this? He knew the city of Silverpine had grown in size since he had visited the station a few years back. He also knew of their various problems with drugs…of course they would have received a bigger station. Reaching the electronic gate to the private parking lot, Rick turned the car around and backed up to it, making sure there would be room to open the trunk. Grabbing their empty bags, crowbar and tools, the two men worked as a cohesive team, one of them jumping the fence and receiving the items that the other passed over. Using the car as leverage, Rick scaled the fence second, he and Glenn picking up their items and heading off without further conversation.

The parking lot was over full, cars owned by every officer able to come on duty as society crumbled. The garage door had been rolled up, but not a single police cruiser was in sight. Passing an empty generator and stepping over a uniformed corpse, Rick lead the way towards the first door, pleased to see that it was half open. He and Glenn allowed themselves a moment to draw their weapons and clear their heads, not knowing what they might find inside. With his machete and flashlight raised, Rick entered first. They had entered the entrance hall of the patrol department, and though no immediate danger presented itself, neither of them let their guard down. Moving in a familiar formation, they cleared each section of the patrol department, their hearts skipping each time they stepped over a corpse, both human and non-human.

"All clear," Glenn muttered a few minutes later, having checked the last room.

"In this department," Rick said lowly, heading back and closing the exterior door. Clearing his throat he shone his flashlight around, situating himself. There was a small staffroom, a meeting room, a couple of offices and a cavernous room crammed with cubicles. Working methodically, the two of them checked the corpses, but found they had been relieved of their weapons long ago. They moved on, finding no food in the staffroom and nothing of interest in the offices. There was a final door they had yet to open, that to the officer's change rooms and lockers. Bracing themselves, they took down a lone Walker and then used the crowbar to snap off the padlocks from each locker. Inside they found nothing more than personal items, and yet they thoroughly checked each bag, finding some over the counter medications and throat lozenges.

"Nothing much," Rick muttered, already anticipating Glenn's question.

"Me either."

Despite their poor findings, they slipped the medications into one of the packs and began to move on. Heading for the last interior door, Rick paused and shone his flashlight at the fire escape plan, critiquing the layout of the building.

"Patrol…detention…dispatch…detectives….administration," he muttered to himself, finally pointing to his choice. "Administration first…then the armoury and equipment are off the garage."

"What about detention?" Glenn asked, readying himself as Rick prepared to open the next door.

"Nothing there that we could use…" he looked around at the patrol department, taking note of the many corpses. "Probably filled with Walkers."

Without further ado, Rick opened the door to the long hallway and shone his flashlight down, pleased to find it empty. They moved slowly, passing restrooms and the heavily secured doors to the dispatch and detention department. Using the crowbar again they broke the locked door to the administration wing and entered, quickly clearing the few small rooms they found. Putting his weapons away, Rick entered one of the offices and looked to the filing cabinets. Ten minutes later, after locating the keys and unlocking them, he rifled through the various folders, looking for the one file that would grant them access to everything they needed.

"Security Policies and Procedures?" Glenn asked, holding a file he had found in another cabinet.

"No…it's definitely Cleaning Staff employment records"

"Got it," Glenn declared a few minutes later, dropping the thin folder onto the desk.

Abandoning his task, Rick gave Glenn a small smile and opened the folder. "Police stations employ cleaning staff through an external business…this file is usually the hard copy of the combination codes."

Glenn's mouth gaped in surprise. "I would have never looked there…" he said in astonishment.

"I'm not just a pretty face," he joked, finding what he needed. He sobered a moment later, knowing they hadn't found success just yet. "They might have changed the codes before this place fell…if they had, they probably wouldn't have bothered updating records."

"Right."

They walked back the way they had come, not bothering to check any of the other departments. Rick knew that there would be nothing of value to them in there, and thinking back to the things he would have done had he been around during the outbreak, he knew the holding cells in detention would have been full of Walkers. On their way out, Rick stooped down and retrieved a set of keys from the body of a policewoman, noting that they were individually numbered. Emerging back into the garage, Rick turned off his flashlight and checked his watch. He was surprised to find that nearly thirty minutes had passed since their initial departure, and so he took out his radio and turned it on.

"How're things back there, Abraham?" he asked in concern.

"All clear," he replied a few moments later. "We got Michonne and Carl back, as well as Aaron and Tobin. Do you need extra hands?"

"Not so far," he replied, leading the way through the garage towards the armoury.

Ensuring the immediate area was safe, Glenn shone the flashlight on the digital deadbolt as Rick crouched down. Using the flathead screwdriver, he pried the front panel open and flicked the old batteries out. Scraping off the corrosion, he slipped the new batteries into place and held his breath, closing the front panel once again. A very long moment passed, and then the small red light illuminated.

Still holding his breath, Rick consulting the paper he had taken from the administration wing, and entered the six digit code. Before he could cross his fingers, the red light changed to green, and they heard the sound of the lock opening. He depressed the door handle and ever so slightly pushed it open.

"You're kidding me," Glenn muttered. "That was so easy."

"There'll be more locks to get through," he warned, standing up. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

He pushed the door open, and by the flashlight they located two Walkers. One stood just inside the doorway, which Glenn took down with ease, and the other Rick kicked to the ground, easily driving his machete into the head. Taking a moment of pause, he looked at the Walker as an ache developed in his stomach…judging by the uniform this person hadn't been any more than a rookie. Looking away, he pulled a face at the smell of the building, the Walkers having been cooped up in here for over a year.

"Looks like we've got a basement here," Glenn said, shining his light ahead of them.

Looking up, Rick followed his gaze. They were situated in a large hallway, one side made up by the brick wall of the building, the other made up of the steel mesh that was typical of secure storage areas. Ahead of them was a flight of stairs leading down to a basement. Standing up, Rick looked to his left at the storage area, noting the moveable shelves and neatly stacked boxes. This would be the evidence lock up.

"Let's clear the hallway, and the downstairs," he prompted, turning on his own flashlight again. He shone the light on the wall beside him, reading the details of the storage areas. "This up here is evidence…downstairs is the armoury and equipment. We'll start there."

Hearing a low shuffle coming from their left, Glenn and Rick looked into the evidence storage again, realising they had aroused the interest of two Walkers inside. Unconcerned, they proceeded with caution to the basement, their boots echoing on the metal framed staircase as they descended. A Walker lay at the bottom of the stairs, likely having fallen some time ago. Remembering the Walker that had bitten Hershel, Rick gave it a rough nudge with his boot before letting Glenn walk past it.

Just like above, a wall of steel mesh made a long hallway, two distinct areas separated by more mesh fencing. The hallway itself was clear, and so Rick headed for the heavy door that would admit them to the armoury, quickly setting about replacing the batteries. When the light illuminated red, he banged his fist against the mesh to attract the Walkers and then waited. Impatient, Rick shone his light through and scrutinised the contents of the armoury. A few glints of silver indicated the presence of some firearms, and the moveable shelves appeared to contain a few boxes of ammunition. By the time the Walkers threw themselves at the steel cages and reached out for them, Rick had already planned where to look first. Taking out the Walkers was easy, reminding Rick of to their time at the prison when they had taken down Walkers on the fences. Ignoring the memories he tried not to dwell on, he entered the code into the lock and silently rejoiced when the heavy door opened to admit them. They entered a smaller filter room where a desk sat on the other side of a partitioned window, and they stopped to enter another code into the second door.

Neither of them commented on that fact that sheer luck was getting them by right now. Rick silently led the way, passing by more steel cages and breaking their locks with the crowbar. The weapon racks contained very few items, and upon consulting the check out sheet, he saw that they had been checked out in late May, two years prior. Noting that it was the same month he had been shot, Rick confirmed his suspicions. In the final days of the initial outbreak, the Police department had gone into full scale action, checking out almost all of their weapons. Nevertheless they found more than they had initially expected to, and so didn't waste breath wishing there was more.

Three rifles and a shotgun were found in the unlocked weapons cabinet, as well as more than sufficient ammunition for each. Combing the room, Rick used the keys he had taken from the dead policewoman and unlocked the pistol lockers, but found only two left. Simply laying the items out for Glenn to pack up, he continued scouring each of the cages and lockers, feeling his levels of satisfaction rising with each one. He found half a dozen tactical flashlights and clips, and some cleaning supplies in the next. Finally in the last locker, he found something he had wanted to find most of all. Taking out the small boxes, he tossed them to Glenn and continued looking.

"What are these?" Glenn enquired, cramming them into the second pack.

"Speed loaders. They're for revolvers," he answered, smiling again when he checked the bottom shelf. "And these, are speed strips."

"Any magazines?"

Rick tried the next cupboard, shaking his head. "No…the spares are gone." Turning around he looked at the sizeable haul Glenn was trying to pack away, next casting his eyes towards the equipment storage area next door. "Save room for the bugs."

Glenn groaned at this, remembering that they had to keep the listening devices at the very bottom of their bags, lest the wrong person accidentally come across them. Leaving him to wallow in frustration, Rick headed out into the hallway and entered the other storage area. Entering the code, he shone his flashlight around the various cabinets and then looked at the keys, matching them up with the labels. In the first cabinet he found uniforms of various sizes and ranks, and in the second he found only hats, gloves and retractable lanyards. Persevering, Rick moved on to the others, the third cabinet containing holsters and pouches for duty belts.

"You alright, Glenn?" he called out, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he called back, sounding breathless. "I'm coming."

He tossed the various items into the middle of the room, already knowing he would make sure Carl received one of the duty belts promptly. It worried Rick to see him carrying his spare magazines in his pocket, knowing how easily they could fall out. Concentrating on his task, he opened the other cabinets, pulling out some bulletproof vests, riot gear and handcuffs. Tucking one set of the cuffs into the pouch on his belt, Rick continued his search for what he really sought from today's work.

"What's the code?" Glenn called out.

"Nine - two - five - five - three - seven."

Slipping a key into the lock of another cabinet, he listened as Glenn entered the combination and opened the door. Opening the double door cabinet, Rick was pleased to find what looked like a wide array of electronics.

"Jesus Christ," Glenn groaned, dropping the empty pack to the floor. He stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped as he took in the sheer volume of equipment Rick had found.

"Jesus won't help you," Rick muttered darkly, carefully reading the labels on each shelf. "Come and hold the flashlight for me."

Finding the correct shelf, he removed a large plastic tub and set it on the ground, finding exactly what he needed inside. Packaged individually were an array of tiny transmitters and receivers, each of them containing a small booklet of instructions and troubleshooting guide. Unable to believe their luck, Rick helped Glenn pack them into the very bottom of the pack, before grabbing various cables and antennas they would need. He kept searching, still finding more equipment they could make use of. Police radios, spare batteries, antennas, bluetooth headsets, earpieces, adapters…even a portable defibrillator. Tossing it all into the centre of the room, he let Glenn pack it all up, distributing it among the packs they had brought with them.

When they were finished, they each slung a pack over their shoulder and hauled them upstairs, taking care when they opened the exterior door and returned to the garage. They made three trips to retrieve all four of their packs and the riot gear, no longer concerned about searching the evidence storage for more weapons. Having found far more than they expected, they were exceptionally pleased with their work that day, and didn't care to bother wasting any more time. Working as quickly as they could, they some how managed to get all of the equipment over the driveway gate and into the backseat of the car, their efforts leaving the two of them exhausted.

"I thought you said this was a small station?" Glenn panted, the two of them standing there looking at the two packs and pile of equipment.

"It was five years before the outbreak," Rick admitted. "I knew they'd have surveillance equipment…but not all this."

"How did you know they'd have bugs?"

"One of my deputy's requested a transfer up here," he explained, the two of them getting in the car and starting the engine. "Wanted to get in on their undercover drug squad…that was just before the turn."

"Talk about luck, hey?"

"Yeah," Rick agreed, departing the station. Pulling back out onto the street, he tried not to think about how lucky that had been to not run into trouble the last three days. "Let's call it luck."

* * *

Despite following in the footsteps of two people she trusted, and despite the fact that they were heavily armed with crossbow, rifle and knives, Carrie felt painfully exposed. For the first time in months, she genuinely feared that she might be attacked by Biters. Her journey alone on foot had been long and arduous, and she had been certain she wouldn't make it much further without sufficient food and water…but at least the Biters had been a smaller threat than they were now. Without her pathetically small knife (nothing against a human attack, but effective against Biters) and the fact that she now wore clean clothes, Carrie was increasingly concerned.

Having arrived at Silverpine and been split into a group, Carrie kept her wits about her as she followed Daryl and Rosita, the three of them walking in absolute silence. Though the small city appeared clear of Biters and unfavourable people, one could never be too careful. Just like Carrie did, the others knew how quickly a peaceful setting could turn to shit. Allowing Daryl to lead the way, she and Rosita followed him down the wide streets, creeping past stores that had been plundered long ago. Daryl paused, and then looked back to Rosita, clicking his finger and pointing to something ahead. A sign for a camping store dangled from the roof ahead of them, the metal hanging from the one remaining chain.

The group crossed the street and approached the camping store, trying not to dwell on the broken window that indicated it had already been ransacked. They paused on the pavement, Rosita looking around as Daryl pounded his hand on the unbroken panel of glass. Sighing impatiently, Daryl raised his crossbow into the store and waited. Carrie smiled to herself…she would have done the exact same thing. She had learnt pretty quickly to not just walk into a building and hope the Biters announced themselves. Best to draw them out.

A minute passed before Daryl grunted to get their attention, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. He stepped through the broken window and turned back, holding his hand out to Carrie. As she let him help her over the broken glass, she noticed him jerking his head at something behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Rick and Glenn on the other side of the street, walking past them. Had they said they were going to the Police station? Carrie as uncomfortably aware of Rick's stare, knowing it was fixated on her. While Glenn raised his hand and gave them a friendly wave, Rick did not, his eyes staring her down until she finally looked away.

"Thanks," she said, her boots slipping a little on the broken glass. "What are we looking for?"

"Food, clothing, weapons," Rosita answered, following her inside and looking around. "Anything we can use."

"Watch your step," Daryl told her gruffly, already marching down the aisles and looking for something. "Stick with one of us…don' wander off."

Following Rosita's lead, Carrie slowly made her way through the store, stepping over fallen shelves and the various goods scattered everywhere. Daryl was already fast at work, piling up a camping stove, lighter fluid and matches in the centre aisle. Rosita worked a little more slowly, carefully scrutinising every shelf and every item that remained.

"I don't know why he bothers taking a group," she muttered, watching as Daryl dropped three hunting knives onto the pile. "He never slows down…"

Carrie smiled, catching a glimpse of a sleeping bag go soaring past them to the pile.

"Get yourself a pack," Daryl called out, his voice low but audible. "Carrie?"

"I will," she said, letting Rosita lead the way to the back of the store.

"This one," Rosita said, grabbing a bright blue camping pack. "It's weatherproof. You'll need a proper canteen…grab that first aid kit and keep it in there…and one of those plastic sheets, just in case we get caught in rain."

Carrie scurried around, grabbing the items Rosita pointed out and hurriedly slipping them into her pack. Tightly clinging the handle of the pack, she remembered how devastated she had been to lose her bag a few weeks ago. She had been sleeping, and must have rolled over at the worst possible moment. Despite the heavy smell of decay that had by then seeped into her very pores, a passing Biter must have seen her movement. Waking at the last moment, Carrie had kicked the Biter away before it could properly reach her, and in her panic she had simply run. It was only twenty minutes later, after dodging three more Biters in blind panic, that she realised she had left her pack behind. It hadn't been much, but it was something.

"You alright?" Rosita asked, the two of them now packing up the stash of items Daryl had found.

"Yeah," she answered, taking note that Rosita put the hunting knives into her own pack, not hers. Rubbing her eyes, she felt exhausted after the conversation with Rick. "Just anxious to get back."

"Don't be," she said reassuringly. "Everything's fine."

"C'mon," Daryl said impatiently, stuffing his pack with water purifying tablets. "Let's keep movin'."

Carrie made to pick up a second bag, but Daryl stopped her quickly, grabbing it himself. "It's heavy…you got fattenin' up to do first."

Though she was capable of carrying a heavy pack, Carrie just thanked him. Rosita smiled, following Daryl and playfully slapping him on the ass.

"Aways the gentleman, Daryl," she teased, laughing at the venomous look he gave her.

Shaking her head, Carrie took her lightweight pack and followed them. Together they headed into three more stores, but found little of use except blood spattered walls and dead Biters. As their hour of scavenging drew to a close, Rosita stopped Daryl as they walked past a clothing store.

"Ain't much left," he commented, looking through the broken glass.

"Carrie needs clothes," Rosita stated anyway, banging her fist against the window.

Daryl didn't argue, accepting that a member of their group needed something. He took down two Biters that appeared from among the clothing racks and then entered the store, making the others hang back a little. Finally he nodded his head and waved them inside, keeping watch as they headed for the racks of clothing.

"What do you like?" Rosita asked.

"Anything that fits," Carrie replied, long past the days of wearing clothing she actually liked.

"What did you wear before all of this?"

Carrie laughed under her breath, thinking back to the days of her prior life. "A suit and high heels…or yoga pants."

Rosita echoed her laugh. "I miss my pumps," she mused, crouching down and sorting through some clothes. "I had black glittery stilettos. I got a lot of free drinks wearing those and a mini skirt. Here…yoga pants."

Catching the pants that Rosita tossed her way, Carrie moved to the other side of the store to look at the jeans. Most of them were on the floor, and so she crouched down and sorted through them all, looking for some that would fit her. Finding a pair of light grey ones, she looked around to see where Daryl was before taking off her shoes. She removed her borrowed jeans and pulled the new ones on, giving a small whoop when they fit well enough. Putting her shoes back on, she grabbed a second pair and stuffed them into her bag, moving on to find some clean underwear.

"Shirts?" Rosita asked, tossing some into the middle of the aisle.

"They're great," Carrie said, choosing a few that she liked. Keeping one out, she stuffed the others into her pack and then returned to the privacy of the racks to change. The long sleeved shirt would keep her warm, and would likely provide a little protection from scratches. Folding up the shirt and jeans Rosita had given her, she returned these items to her pack and then headed for the underwear. She passed Daryl as she went, and she was surprised to see him in the children's section. In his hands he held a small yellow dress, and he frowned as he scrutinised its label. Remembering the baby Rosita had referred to, Judith, and she wondered if Daryl was her father. She hadn't asked who she belonged to, not wanting to be intrusive.

"C'mon you two," Daryl called out, stuffing the dress into his pack. "Hour's nearly up…they'll worry."

"Okay," she called back, hastily grabbing some bras.

A shadow passed over her eyes, and she turned just in time to see a large heavy mass coming for her. She neither heard nor smelt the Biter that came at her, and there was no time for her to jump back and put some space between them. In an instant it had reached for her, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her towards it. She cried out in shock, panicking before instinct kicked in.

Using all of her strength, she threw herself against the heavy mass, using it's own weight and lack of coordination against it. It fell to the ground with a snarl, taking some of her hair with it, but she was agile enough to stay on her feet no matter what. Her panic subsiding, Carrie acted quickly before the Biter could do anything else. Moving behind it, she raised her leg and drove her foot down onto the skull, the solid boots Rosita had given her easily crushing the soft bone. She repeated the motion again and again, until the limbs finally fell to the floor and her instincts told her that danger had passed. Stopping, she stumbled backwards and turned on the spot, searching for more Biters. Panting for breath, she turned back and found Rosita and Daryl staring at her. They were only feet away, having rushed to her aid unnecessarily.

"Damn, girl," Daryl said in awe, lowering his crossbow. He squinted at her, titling his head in surprise. "There might be more to you than I thought."

Carrie laughed shortly, relieving herself of the sudden adrenaline rush. She brushed her fingers through her long hair, trembling in shock. Looking at the Biter, she waited to see if it moved at all before nudging it with her foot, ensuring it was really dead.

"Yah not bit?" Daryl asked next, looking concerned. "Scratched?"

Shaking her head, Carrie looked down at herself to make sure. The bottom of her new jeans were spattered with blood…but other than that she was fine.

"No…I'm fine."

"Alrigh'," Daryl murmured, the three of them standing there in shock. "You get everythin' yah need?"

He gestured to her hands, where despite her attack she still clutched two bras. Shaking her head, Carrie took a few deep breaths and returned to her former task. Daryl hovered by her side as she grabbed a few sets of socks and underwear, and he held the top of her bag open as she stuffed them inside. He kept looking at her in concern, the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he tried to make sure she was really alright.

"Let's get back," he grunted, seeing that she had everything.

"Yes," she agreed with relief. "That would be great."

Following Daryl's lead again, Carrie and Rosita followed him out of the store and back the way they had come. They walked in silence, the other two letting Carrie quietly deal with the fright of what had just happened to her. Taking a drink of water, she reminded herself of what she had gained that day. Not only had she joined her third group of people, she had her own clothing, and have proved herself as being capable of protecting herself, with or without a weapon. The look of surprise on Daryl's face was not lost on her. Though she had lost weight, she was still strong. Calories were in short supply, but a cardio workout was not…given the necessity, Carrie was capable of performing when she or others were in need.

A few minutes later they returned to the group, Rosita insisting that she wash her hands clean after the Biter attack. Looking around, she took note that only Glenn and Rick had not returned, and that one of the cars was missing. Still coming down from the adrenaline rush, Carrie deposited her pack in the back of the dodge and then awkwardly leant against the hood. Michonne and Rosita both hovered nearby, for which she was grateful. Although they had welcomed her, she was still a little nervous around the new group, not entirely sure of what to do or how to conduct herself. She'd feel better if she had a purpose, a menial task to do that would contribute, but it seemed they were trying to take care of her.

"Hey," Carl said, heading over to her. "I heard you took down a Walker…on your own."

"Yeah," she replied, fixing a polite smile on her face.

"Cool," he nodded in approval. Squinting at her from under the brim of his hat, he suddenly produced a yellow packet from his pocket, and held it out to her. "Milk Dud?"

She grinned, looking at the chocolate reverently. It had been too long since she had the luxury of chocolate. "Thanks," she said, glad when he rattled the box and dropped a few into her palm. Putting one of the chocolates into her mouth, she groaned in delight at the sweet, creamy taste.

"You earned it."

Helping himself to a few more Milk Duds, he stood beside her and watched the group, the two of them listening to Aaron and Abraham discussing the motel they ought to stay the night in. She and Carl stood in a comfortable silence, and she wondered just how astute Rosita was in her observation that Carl might not warm up to her very quickly. Really she hadn't spoken more than a few words to the teenager, and here he was, sharing his candy and waiting beside her.

"What are you smiling about?" she dared to ask a few minutes later, baffled by the expression on Carl's face.

He looked up at her in surprise. "I'm eating Milk Duds for lunch…what's not to smile about?"

"Alright, fair enough," she agreed, happily taking a few more as his insistence.

"Besides, Aaron just told everyone we're staying at an empty motel for the night."

"That's good."

Carl chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "No, it's hilarious…he hasn't asked my Dad."


	7. Chapter 7

After their hour of scavenging, Rick and Glenn were the last to return to the group, their arrival with a car full of supplies a welcome sight. However his relief to see all of the group members reconvened was short lived, his impatience flaring when he questioned why everyone seemed so happy. Aaron had suggested that they stay the night there in Silverpine, seeking shelter and rest in the comfort of a nearby motel. This suggestion was not one Rick wanted to entertain, not when he knew how tantalisingly close they were to the prison.

But the suggestion had already been made, and the group had enthusiastically welcomed it.

"It's barely past midday," Rick argued, taking Aaron aside. "You want to stop for the night and waste six hours of daylight?"

"Yes," he insisted quietly. "The removal truck's nearly out of gas, and we've used almost all our spare."

"You said there was a station here."

"There is…but to manually pump a truck, three cars and all the spares will cost us a few hours anyway. At best we'd be on the road by three o'clock, and get a few hours of daylight left before we stop anyway."

"Well that's progress at least."

"Progress, for the sake of progress," Aaron argued, keeping his tone friendly. "What's the point in that? We can stay here for the night, be surrounded by four walls and get a decent sleep."

To his frustration, Rick didn't have a valid point to rebuke Aaron's argument. Insisting that they keep going would only gain them a few hours of travel, and would mean they'd be camping on the side of the road again that night. He had been thinking that their good luck would run out…perhaps pushing his group was the wrong choice. But still…they hadn't made as much progress as they had expected, keeping their speed moderate to conserve gas. Glaring at the ground, Rick reluctantly agreed to Aaron's plan.

"Fine," he concluded, looking up at Aaron. "But these decisions are not your call…they're mine."

Having made himself clear, Rick backed off and herded everyone into the vehicles, telling them to follow Aaron. The motel on the edge of town was expansive, the rear parking lot providing a place where they could store the vehicles without them being seen from the road. Leaving Carl and Carrie to stay with the vehicles, they quickly began to clear the area, eventually choosing a few rooms on the top floor to break in to. Twenty minutes later when they were confident of their safety, they began moving their packs and food inside to settle for the night.

"You alright?" Rick asked in concern, watching as Carl staggered under the weight of carrying three packs.

"Yeah," he grunted, determined to succeed.

Hovering by the trunk of the car, Rick watched as he headed off up the flight of stairs. Watching the teenager's ascent, Glenn joined Rick by the trunk of the car.

"Is it wrong that I want him to fall on his arse?" he commented, seeing Carl reached the top floor and then stagger into a room.

"Yes," Rick told him, secretly thinking the same thing.

He turned back to the trunk of the car, where only Glenn's pack remained. Reaching through to the back seat, he grabbed the red pack they had taken into the Police station with them, keeping an eye out incase anyone from the Alexandria group came wandering over. Their only company was Rosita, who noticed what they seemed to be doing and so casually kept an eye on everyone's movements. Opening the red pack, they quickly pulled out the items they had stashed on the top of the listening devices, tossing them aside. At the bottom of the pack were the transmitters and receivers.

"Tonight, we'll spread them out between all of our packs," Rick said quietly, quickly arranging the devices and laptops inside Glenn's pack. "Just in case we happen to lose one."

"We have to wait until Carl's asleep, right?"

"Right. He's not to know what we're doing."

As he said that, Aidan came down the stairs and headed towards the other cars. Rosita was already by his side, engaging him in conversation and keeping him distracted. Triple checking that they had all the listening devices, Glenn repacked his clothes on top and slung the pack over his shoulder.

"You worry too much," Glenn told him, noticing the concern on Rick's face. "We've been lucky so far."

Rick sighed to himself…there was that word again. "That's what worries me."

Aaron's decision to stop for the night still didn't sit well with him, their inactivity and lack of progress filling him with restless energy. Though help was offered to him, Rick politely refused it, preferring to work on his own. While everyone else relaxed, Rick had kept busy, not wanting to stop and think about all that he had left behind in Alexandria. He had carefully sorted out their mass of equipment and weapons he and Glenn had stolen from the Police station, leaving some of it out for immediate use and storing the rest in the back of the truck. Next he had arranged the supplies everyone else had found, sorting the medications and food into their dedicated storage tubs before refilling the drinking water in each of the cars. Two hours later, with the Walker alarms strung up around the motel and the haul from the Police station organised, Rick decided to allow himself a short break.

Closing the rear doors of the removal truck, he stretched his shoulders and looked around, still feeling the restless energy that plagued him. He would take first watch again that night…he would take the whole shift if his energy kept up like this. Clenching his jaw, he remembered that the excess energy stemmed directly from his worries, his anxiety. When he was stressed, he was full of energy. In the days following Lori's death, Rick hadn't slept at all, not feeling the need to. There were times when he collapsed into a stupor, when he waited for that damned telephone to ring as his eyes glazed over until his next burst of energy struck him. He remembered those days in such detail, the memories filling him with shame and embarrassment.

Taking a few deep breaths, he told himself to stop worrying…he didn't want to project that on to Carl. He had been struggling enough the past few weeks in Alexandria…although he seemed particularly relaxed and care free the last few days. Pondering this, he understood that his son was feeling stir crazy locked up inside the walls, torn between the desire to integrate and the need to stay strong. Perhaps Carl was happier out here on the road…at least here, they knew how to act and how to think. Back in Alexandria, they were never quite sure of what life required of them.

The desire to take a short break passed quickly, Rick thinking back to something Michonne had mentioned to him that afternoon. Carl's birthday was coming up in two months, his fifteenth. Being on this supply run was the opportunity to find him a gift, to make this birthday special. His fourteenth, two months after the death of his mother, hadn't been the celebration Rick had hoped it would be. This year though, would be different. Rick was determined. Not only was Carl turning fifteen, it would be Judith's first birthday in two weeks. He had been hoping to find Carl a watch, but he was too uncertain of what his son would want to choose one without some form of guidance. That's where Michonne came in.

"Carl?" Rick called, walking past the rooms on the top floor. "Carl?"

"In here."

Following his voice, Rick entered the very last room they had chosen, looking around. It contained two bunk beds and a double, and judging by the Milky Way wrapper on the table, the minibar was still stocked. Carl sat on the double bed, practicing reloading his revolver with the speed strips taken from the Police station. Beside him sat the duty belt and accessories Rick had given him, yet to be properly organised and fitted.

"What do you think?" Rick asked, watching as Carl deftly reloaded six rounds with accuracy.

"They're great," Carl nodded, snapping the barrel of the gun closed. "Better than dropping half of them."

"Have you tried the speed loader?"

"Yeah…it's heavier though, I don't like it as much."

Rick nodded in agreement, knowing how heavy a duty belt could get when loaded up with spare ammunition, hand cuffs and radio. "Tonight we'll soften the leather a bit, put all the pouches on the way you like them."

Carl nodded, smiling as he reloaded the revolver again.

"I'm going for a walk," Rick asked, making an offer he knew Carl would refuse. "Do you want to come with me, or are you going with the others?"

Looking up, Carl considered this carefully. "Where are you going?"

Rick shrugged, playing down his plans. "Just for a walk."

"Where are the other's going?"

"Gas station."

As his son considered this, Rick anticipated his next question. "Can I drive one of the cars there?"

Rick gave a calculated answer. "That's up to Glenn and Daryl…but only the automatic."

"I know," he agreed eagerly. "I can't stuff up the gears if things go wrong…so I can drive?"

"Ask Glenn and Daryl…be quick, I think they're going soon."

Reloading his revolver for a final time, Carl jumped up and tucked it into the holster. "Thanks Dad," he said, quickly slipping past him. "Have a nice walk."

Following Carl outside, Rick leant over the balcony and looked to the parking lot below. When Carl made his request to Glenn, knowing he was easier to convince than Daryl, Rick gave a short nod to indicate his approval. Glenn shrugged, tossing Carl the keys to the minivan and telling him to get ready. Rick smiled to himself, pleased by how easily he predicted his son.

"I hear you goin' for a walk?" Daryl questioned, creeping up behind him.

"Yeah…there's a jewellery store Michonne and Carl checked out. I want to get him a watch for his birthday."

Daryl nodded, leaning against the balustrade and folding his arms. "Abraham and Rosita are stayin' 'ere…reckons the possum still ain't sittin' proper. Rest of us are going to gas up…check out the station and auto shop."

"Okay."

"Want us to take Carrie?"

Hesitating, Rick sighed. Having a new, untrusted member of their group sure was a lot to consider. He was certainly more trusting of her now, believing her story, but she was still a problem to consider. "I'll bring her with me," he decided. "How did things go with her today?"

"Went alright," Daryl grunted.

"What?" Rick enquired, knowing by the tone of Daryl's voice that something was wrong.

Daryl grunted again, shrugging his shoulders a little. "I fucked up…she nearly got taken down in one of the stores."

"How did that happen?"

"Was my fault," he said lowly. "Didn't check everything out properly…there was one of those Lurker types, you know the one's that don't always come out at first…"

"Mmm."

"It came at her, and I wasn't near enough…grabbed her by the hair. She took it down though," he added in admiration.

"How? She's not meant to have a weapon."

Daryl just shrugged his shoulders, looking at the opposite wall. "She just charged at it, like she's some kind o' line backer or somethin'…knocked it over and stomped it."

Rick's jaw dropped in surprise. "But she…I mean I know she's practically my height…but there's nothing of her."

"Must be stronger than she looks. She was a bit shook up, but she's alright."

Rick looked back down at the others, seeing Carrie standing with Michonne. The two of them talked quietly, Carrie admiring her katana. Suddenly Rick didn't see her as so small and defenceless…she had taken down a Walker on her own, without a weapon. He wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing.

"We should make it to the prison by tomorrow," Daryl commented. "Don't see no reason why we shouldn't."

"We were planning on being there today," he grumbled in reply, still annoyed by their slow progress. Suddenly Carrie laughed, her hands moving as she told a story.

"Mmm," Daryl replied, following Rick's gaze. There was a long pause. "You like her or somethin'?"

"Who?" he said in surprise, looking around.

"Carrie. You keep lookin' at 'er."

"I'm just keeping an eye on her," he said defensively.

Daryl nodded his head, but didn't seem convinced. "You two didn't shut up in the car."

Rick frowned at him. "I was questioning her…for all of ten minutes."

Sensing his defensiveness, Daryl backed off. "I'ma take a piss 'fore we go," he said, heading off towards the stairs.

"Hey, about Carl-"

"I'll keep an eye on 'im," Daryl grunted, anticipating what Rick was going to request.

"Thanks," he replied, lingering there on the balcony for a few moments. He looked down at Carl, seated in the driver's seat of the minivan and waiting patiently. Grabbing an empty satchel, Rick headed down and quickly hashed out their plans with Aaron, the two of them making sure they each had a radio to contact each other.

"You sure you'll be alright without a car?" Aaron asked in concern. "You can take one if you like, I'll gas it up later."

"No," Rick refused. "Get it all done now, that way we're prepared. How long do you think you'll be?"

"Two hours at least."

Rick checked his watch. "If you're longer than that, I'll come looking."

"Take a flare gun with you, please."

Taking said item from one of the cars, Rick checked the flare and then made his way over to where Carrie and Michonne stood talking, waiting for the others to finally be ready. He hesitated, Daryl's comments in the back of his mind.

"Carrie, I'm going for a walk back into the city," he began. "Would you like to join me?"

It was clear to the both of them that this was not an offer of his company, but a polite way of telling her where she would be going. He half expected her to refuse him, especially given his harsh demeanour from that morning. To her credit, she nodded without hesitation.

"Sure."

He turned to Michonne. Before he even opened his mouth, she answered him.

"He likes yours, but in black."

"Thank you," he said. "How did you convince him to go in and look?"

Michonne winked at him, but gave no other explanation. Departing with a quick wave, he and Carrie stepped over the Walker alarms and headed off, the two of them keeping a close watch on their surroundings. Reaching the street, they walked in the middle of the road, Rick keeping his hand on the handle of his machete at all times. It was habit by now, but even more so when there was someone around that he didn't trust one hundred percent. He sighed as he thought about this, looking at Carrie from the corner of his eye. It surprised him that she had managed to take down a Walker on her own, particularly without a weapon. She must be stronger than they realised, despite her slight build. He didn't know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Michonne was right…he was too paranoid.

He looked at her as they walked, feeling bad about their conversation that morning. He knew what he could be like sometimes, that his temper could be unpredictable. Those that didn't know him well probably thought him to be somewhat of a jerk, his disposition often changing at the drop of a dime when someone said or did the wrong thing. Her mention of Terminus, her difficulty answering the question of whether or not she had been there had immediately put him on the defensive. In retrospect, he had over reacted. But if she had any idea of what went on behind those fences, she would understand. He could explain it to her, he could tell her what had happened to her friends. Or…

"Carrie," he began slowly. "About this morning, in the car…I'm sorry."

Judging by her expression, she knew what he was referring to. Had she been dwelling on that as much as he? "It's okay," she said quietly. "I get it."

He just nodded, feeling the need to explain a little. "Sometimes…some people tell me I can be a little…"

"Crabby?" she suggested.

He looked around at her, amused by her description. Before he could stop himself, he smiled and gave a short laugh. "I was going to say moody…but, crabby works."

Echoing his smile, Carrie looked around, her eyes squinting against the sunlight. "You're not like that around Carl."

Surprised by her observation, he wondered how to reply. "And you're annoyingly perceptive."

"Gotta have something."

Nodding in agreement, Rick scratched his chin. A distant Walker took notice of them, but they had turned the corner before it could do much more than look around. "It's a conscious effort," he began, referring to her observation about Carl. "He takes notice of me more than I realised."

She just nodded. "He seems like a nice kid."

"He tries," he agreed, slipping his hands into his pocket. "We're actually heading to get him a watch for his birthday. To be honest, I could use another opinion."

"Ahh, like yours, but in black," she repeated what Michonne had said, understanding now.

They fell into silence, but it was a little more comfortable now. Leading the way, Rick turned another corner, taking them down the road that Michonne and Carl had taken earlier that day. How Michonne had convinced Carl to waste time looking at jewellery was beyond Rick…he was grateful that they were such good friends.

Arriving at the store, he drew his machete and told Carrie to wait outside. Though others had been in here only hours before, he wanted to be absolutely sure. He couldn't expect Carl to follow his words of caution and vigilance if he didn't follow them himself. Broken glass littered the carpet, and it crunched beneath his boots as he made his way around the display cabinets. As he expected, the majority of the finer jewellery had been plundered long ago, but a fair amount remained in tact. Checking behind all the display cabinets, he looked into the back rooms as well before returning to the store front, waving at Carrie to come inside.

Not wanting to waste time, Rick turned his attention to what was left of the men's watches, pleased to find that more than a dozen remained. The glass cabinet was shattered, enabling him to reach in and remove the three black watches. Setting them out on the nearest surface, Rick removed his own and laid it out by the others, comparing the style and features of each one. He immediately ruled out one of them, leaving him with two to choose from.

"What do you think?" he asked, showing Carrie.

"That one," she commented straight away, pointing to the first watch.

"Why?" he questioned, surprised by her quick answer.

"The matte black will stay in better condition than the glossy black."

"Huh," he muttered, looking at the difference. He hadn't even noticed that. "Thank you."

"They might have cases out the back," she muttered, already walking off towards the back room.

Standing there, Rick was pleasantly surprised by the ease of choosing the gift. He looked between the watches one last time before returning his own to his wrist. They were similar enough, but the bold face and strong black lines of Carl's would suit his taste well. Rick and Lori would have purchased their son an expensive watch for his twenty first birthday, just as Rick's parents had done for him. At fifteen, the watch would probably be too large on Carl's wrist, but that wouldn't bother him. If it was too big, he could put it aside for when he was older. There were plenty of basic watches in the store room back in Alexandria. At least these days Carl would have somewhere safe to keep his.

Remembering Judith now, Rick found his attention drawn to a different display cabinet. The display of tiny silver and gold baby bracelets was completely untouched, not likely drawing the interest of the average looter, leaving Rick a wide array to choose from. He removed the display stand and set it beside Carl's watch, his fingertips gently touching the jewellery as he wondered which he should choose for his daughter. One in particular caught his eye, a red lady bug painted onto the name plate. Picking it up, he tried to picture Judith's name engraved there, picturing it around her wrist.

"What have you got there?"

Carrie's return surprised Rick, who had been deep in thought. Trying not to show how startled he had been, he showed her the bracelet.

"I don't think it's really your style," she commented smartly.

He laughed, unable to help it. "It's for my daughter…It's her first birthday next month."

"Judith?"

He nodded, looking back at the Ladybug bracelet, trying to decide between it and a golden one with a daisy charm. As he often did when it came to Carl and Judith, he wondered which Lori would have chosen.

"She's back at your camp with her mom, right? Carol?"

It took Rick a moment to realise what Carrie was talking about, confusion striking him at the strange remark. He quickly recovered, realising that of course she would presume Carol was Judith's mother. She must have misunderstood whatever Rosita had told her.

"Carol is family, but she's not my wife," he explained, mentally bracing himself as he always did when this topic came up. "My wife, Lori…she died when Judith was born."

Carrie winced, realising she had brought up a painful subject. "I didn't know," she apologised. "I'm sorry."

Though it sounded genuine, Rick hastened to brush off her apology, looking back down at the bracelets. Unable to make a decision, he showed them both to her. "Which one?"

"The silver one. The Ladybug," she answered without hesitation.

Again, Rick was surprised by the promptness of her answer. Just like with her recommendation for Carl's watch, she sounded certain of her advice. "Why's that?"

The corner of Carrie's mouth turned upward in a small smile. "The hands on Carl's watch are silver…so is your ring," she answered, gesturing to his left hand. "Silver fits."

"Right," he nodded to himself, liking her reasoning. "I can't argue with that."

"You'll find I'm very difficult to argue with," she joked, brushing her hair back off her face.

Rick looked at her, frowning. He knew what he wanted to say, the remark about arguments and people living in close quarters sitting on the tip of his tongue, but the words failed him. Realising he was staring at her, he quickly looked back to the chosen bracelet.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat. "Thanks…for your help, I mean."

"No problem," she replied after a moment. She lingered, both of them feeling the awkward moment, but not entirely sure what caused it. Trying to push past it, she placed a black watch case on the cabinet. "I'll see if there are any cases for the bracelet."

"Thanks," Rick breathed, even though she had already disappeared into the back room. Fumbling, he opened the black case and arranged Carl's watch inside, trying to find a clean part of his shirt to wipe the glass face.

"Red, pink, or black?" Carrie asked, standing in the doorway. She held three small cases out, waiting for his answer.

Rick smiled, no longer feeling tongue tied. "What do you think?" he asked, already predicting her answer.

Echoing his smile, Carrie came back over and looked at the bracelet. "Red…to match the Ladybug."

Nodding in agreement, he took the red case from her hand. "I can't argue with that."

Opening the case, he carefully laid the bracelet out and tried to arrange it, the silver chain feeling minuscule beneath his fingers. He settled for just throwing it in there, needing someone with a lighter touch to arrange it. Besides, he didn't have time to fuss…they were exposed, and without a watch. Putting the two boxes into the satchel, he took a quick look around the store, Carrie waiting patiently as he walked behind the counter. Shining his flashlight around, he checked under the register and found a panic button and a can of mace. Taking the mace, he looked checked under all the cabinets, but found nothing else.

"Anything take your interest?" he enquired, trying to make conversation. The silence felt awkward, Carrie looking a little uncomfortable again.

She forced a smile. "Maybe next time."

Ushering her to follow, Rick stepped outside first and looked in both directions, deciding which way to go. The way back was clear, but there were a few more stores he wanted to look through, remembering the bars Glenn had mentioned earlier. The other direction greeted them with another lone Walker, though it hadn't noticed them as of yet. Without concern, Rick started heading that way, looking back to make sure Carrie was following him. A lone Walker wasn't a problem, he could handle that with his eyes closed, though he probably wouldn't try to prove that claim.

He took note of Carrie's discomfort, of the way her hand rested on the pocket of her new jeans where she used to keep her knife. She must be terribly uncomfortable without a weapon to protect herself, suddenly making Rick recognise the sheer amount of trust she was placing in him and the group. Thinking of what she had asked yesterday, about what she needed to do to earn her keep, he knew she mustn't completely trust them. She had been asking if they would take advantage of her, even Carl had figured that out, and Rick didn't doubt that men were doing that with alarming frequency. Although a part of him wanted her to be at ease, to feel comfortable in their presence, he couldn't give her a weapon until mutual trust was developed for both of them. It didn't matter if he trusted her…if she didn't trust them, she could lash out if she thought she was being threatened. Remembering Clara, he erred on the side of caution.

The Walker had noticed them now, and had turned towards them with great interest, letting out a loud growl of desire. It was probably just the sheer silence, but this growl sounded particularly loud, making the hairs the back of his neck stand up. Seeing Carrie's shoulders tense as she walked, Rick swapped places with her, putting himself between her and the Walker. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at this, not that he could blame her. They picked up the pace a little, easily passing the Walker before it could get close. As they passed it let out another loud growl, it's arms flailing as it reached for them.

With a long sigh, Rick slowed to a stop, turning around and looking at it. It was one Walker…one God damned Walker that would probably follow them all the way back to the motel. He knew how they behaved. If another Walker noticed that something had taken its interest, it too would follow, even if the prey was far away. Picturing a small herd descending on the motel, Rick drew his machete and headed back to it. Knocking it's arms aside, he drove the machete up through the roof of the mouth, targeting the easiest part. Drawing it back, he let the Walker fall to the ground and then wiped the blade on it's clothing. With another long sigh, he slid the machete back into the holster before returning to Carrie.

"Feels like one grain of sand on the whole beach, right?"

He nodded in agreement, knowing what she was referring to. "Yes."

Taking down a second Walker, they reached the bar Glenn had mentioned and stood outside the doors, Rick hammering his fist against a pane of glass. They stood and waited, both of them feeling the sting of the awkward silence again. Avoiding eye contact, Rick wondered what was causing it. Maybe he should try again to start another conversation. Surely it couldn't be that hard.

"Wait here," he requested, looking up and down the street to make sure she would be safe. "I won't be long."

Leaving her there, he turned on his flashlight and went inside, taking care to check the surroundings. It took him less than thirty seconds to check behind the bar and find nothing…not a gun, not mace…nothing. Disheartened, he took another quick look around. If Carrie wasn't waiting for him, he'd do a proper sweep of all the rooms. The next bar around the corner turned up a few cigarette lighters he took from corpses and a lonely packet of peanuts, still sealed. Having not eaten since the cold toast and bad coffee Carl had made him that morning, he opened the packet and returned to Carrie.

They set off together, Carrie giving a small smile as he offered her the pack of peanuts. "Thanks," she said, taking a few.

Still walking in silence, they started heading back to the motel, Rick once again wondering how to initiate conversation. The awkwardness had reached another level of discomfort, both of them knowing how awkward it was, but unsure if they could do anything about it.

"When Carl was younger…and a little more gullible than he is now," Rick began slowly. "I told him he was allergic to nuts."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, relieved to see the corners of her mouth turned upward.

"Why would you do that?"

"He had a strong liking for my hazelnut chocolate…and I had a strong dislike of sharing it."

"Oh," she laughed.

"I told him his doctor called, and said that his face would swell up and explode if he ate nuts…he believed me."

Carrie laughed again, shaking her head a little. "Does he still think that?"

"No. After the outbreak, we were on the road and found a Snickers…I had to tell him the truth so that he'd eat it."

"Was he pretty embarrassed?"

"Yeah, he was. I don't think he's forgiven me yet."

There was a short pause, Carrie scratching her eyebrow before she spoke next. "So, Rick…you know a bit about me now. What about you?"

Part of him wanted to shoot down her question, to refuse to answer her. His old life didn't feel like it belonged to him, and he tried so hard not to dwell on it. But it wasn't entirely unreasonable that she ask. After all, she had answered all of his questions that day. She did have the right to be curious. If he needed her to trust him as much as he needed to trust her, he ought to give her this much at least.

"Before?" He didn't need to clarify what he meant.

"Before."

"I was a Sheriff's Deputy, in King County."

"Where's that?"

"A couple of hours from here. I was stationed there sixteen years."

"Did you like it?"

"I guess," he answered. He paused, realising what he had said. "I loved it…it was just a long time ago, that's all."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "What about your wife, Lauren?"

"Lori. She worked from home…did book keeping for a few businesses."

He didn't say anything more, unable to articulate what he really wanted to. He wanted to say that Lori was more than a stay at home Mom with a hobby, that she graduated college with an honours degree in accounting, all while raising Carl…that he saw her as far too smart to waste her time keeping the books for small businesses, that they had plans for more. It didn't matter though…even if he could articulate what he thought of his late wife, he didn't want to share it with a complete stranger. In fact…he didn't share it with anyone.

"I'm sorry you lost her."

Rick just nodded, never knowing how to reply to those statements of sorrow. "We say sorry a lot these days," he pondered aloud.

Carrie nodded in agreement. "Does it help? To hear it, I mean…"

He shrugged, thinking about it. "Sure," he said uncertainly, remembering all the Woodbury residents who had expressed their sorrow upon meeting Judith and learning about Lori. "It's part of the process, I suppose."

"What about after the outbreak?" she enquired after a short pause.

Deciding to skim over the majority of details, Rick answered her question. "Lori, Carl and I…we started near Atlanta. That's where I met Glenn and Daryl. We hit the road…stayed at a farm for a few weeks. Glenn met his wife there, Maggie. The group got bigger, and then we hit the road again. We lived in a prison for a few months…West Georgia Correctional Facility."

"Wow," she said in awe. "Is that the place you lost?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Judith was born there…we had a few good months before we lost it. Then we hit the road again."

"Then Aaron picked you up?"

He looked at her in surprise, realising that Rosita must have told her that. Of course she must know a little already "Yeah…Aaron picked us up."

"And here you are?"

"Yeah…here we are."

There was another short silence, but this time it was comfortable, not awkward. "A prison…" she muttered in disbelief. "Makes sense, I suppose. Fences and walls ready to go…you'd be able to section off the different blocks…beds, medicine, food."

"It was a good find," he agreed, remembering the rare look of excitement on Daryl's face when he returned from hunting, telling Rick what he had found for them. "That's where we're heading. We should get there tomorrow."

"Are you looking forward to returning?"

Considering this, Rick answered honestly. "No…but we've got stuff there that we need. Guns, supplies…our only pictures of Lori."

Carrie sighed. "If I could have one thing from my old life, it would be a picture of my parents…sometimes I forget what they looked like."

He understood where she was coming from. The day that Daryl, Glenn and Maggie had decided they were returning to the Greene farm to retrieve their personal belongings, Rick had been filled with sheer relief. It felt like his memories of Lori were fading faster than he could hang onto them, and he feared that the face he remembered was something his mind made up…that it wasn't really her. When their photos had been returned, Rick had taken the photograph that normally resided under the sun visor of his police cruiser and secured it on the underside of the bunk above his. No one knew that during the long nights awake with Judith, or when he was plagued with insomnia, he would lay there and look at his wife. Until then, Rick had no idea how lonely a person could be, even when surrounded by family. It was always at night that regret stung his heart…he regretted every harsh word he had said to her.

He regretted what he hadn't said even more.

"We're lucky," he said, continuing when Carrie looked confused. "That we still have pictures."

"Yeah," she agreed. They continued walking, the motel appearing ahead a short while later. "If you could have one thing from your old life, what would it be?"

Rick gave a short laugh at this, that question harder to answer than anything else. "I don't know," he answered, material belongings having no value to him.

She didn't press him for an answer, for which he was grateful. "I liked your questions from yesterday…the ones you asked when you picked me up."

"Oh?"

"They were…informative," she shrugged, looking at him as she spoke. "I used to ask the same type of thing…everyone's done something worth asking about."

"Yes," he nodded.

Looking at her critically, he knew there was more to her than met the eye. They had both skimmed over the finer details of their experiences, but there was something about her that made him want to take pause…a sense of confidence and certainty was beginning to show through her apprehension. Their brief conversation had clearly made her feel a little more comfortable…certainly more comfortable than their tense conversation that morning in the car. They reached the motel and headed around the back, seeing Rosita on watch atop the removal truck.

"Thanks for…" he trailed off uncertainly, wondering where his train of thought had been taking him. He gestured to the satchel, Carl and Judith's birthday presents inside. "Thanks for helping me out."

Carrie pursed her lips, looking as though she was trying not to laugh. "No problem…thanks for stopping for me yesterday."

Rick actually managed a laugh, recognising the difference in what they had done for each other. "I should hide these," he said, checking his watch to see how much longer Carl might be. Almost an hour had passed…they shouldn't be more than another.

"Okay."

He hesitated before departing, feeling like there was something else to say…that their conversation hadn't properly concluded. Nevertheless he turned away, trying not to look as though he was fleeing from the awkwardness, even though he most definitely was. As he climbed the stairs to the top floor he glanced down to where he had left Carrie, glad to see that she was standing by the removal truck talking to Rosita. At the last minute she turned and looked up at him, noticing the way he was looking at her.

Avoiding her eyes, Rick turned away and finally found sanctuary in the motel room.

* * *

It was early when Rick roused the next morning, his eyes fluttering open the moment the first rays of sunlight penetrated the windows of the motel room. Waking from a comfortable night of sleep, he yawned and stretched out, knowing that Aaron had been right to insist they stay the night in Silverpine. The beds were warm and comfortable, and the motel fortress kept them safe from Walkers and other people passing through. All in all it had been a good decision Aaron had made, even if he had made it without Rick. Having hoped to arrive at the prison yesterday, they were a whole day behind their intended schedule.

Rolling over, he observed Carl beside him, whose face was half pressed into his pillow the way he usually slept. Wishing he could be like the other teenagers in Alexandria who slept in at leisure, he nudged his son and gently roused him. Carl groaned, batting his father's hand away. He too had slept well, and was reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed.

"Ten more minutes," he grumbled, taking his hat from the bedside table and putting it over his head.

"Five," Rick agreed, sitting up.

He looked across at the two single beds where Glenn and Daryl had slept, not at all surprised to find only Glenn still there. Letting him sleep a little longer, Rick rolled his shoulders and set about preparing for the day ahead. The sooner they left, the sooner they would arrive at the prison. Brushing his teeth in the motel bathroom, he stroked the coarse hair on his jaw that was no longer a five o'clock shadow. He couldn't be bothered with shaving that day, and certainly it had looked worse than this before. Remembering the days when he had shaved every morning like clockwork, he roughly tried to neaten his hair, glad that he had asked Jessie to cut it again before they left.

"Carl," he prompted, reaching across the bed and grasping his shoulder. "C'mon."

Sighing, Carl sat up and rubbed his eyes as he looked around the room. "How come Glenn doesn't have to get up?"

"He's a grown man."

"But-"

"I'm a mean, terrible father," Rick sighed, packing up his things. "How's that?"

Breathing heavily through his nose, Carl glared at him. "Fairly accurate."

"I'll take that under advisement," he said, rifling through his pack. As he had said he would, Glenn had spread out the listening devices among each pack, ensuring that they wouldn't all be lost if something happened to one of them. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he reminded himself to make sure the packs ended up in separate cars, just incase they lost one. Shivering a little from the cool morning air, he removed a clean shirt and slipped it over his shoulders as he headed outside.

"Good morning," a soft voice came from his left.

Rick looked around in surprise, having not expected anyone else but Daryl to be awake this early. Carrie stood leaning on the balcony, a mug of steaming hot tea in her hands. She smiled at him, her eyes flicking down for a moment. Realising his shirt was wide open, Rick hastened to fasten the buttons.

"Morning," he said quietly, looking over his shoulder to make sure Carl was getting up. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be awake."

"Daryl woke me by accident," she explained, sipping her drink. "He lost his footing on the stairs…oh my God, the swearing…"

"That doesn't sound like him," Rick muttered.

"What? The swearing?"

"Losing his footing…Is he alright?"

"I think he only hurt his pride."

Rick yawned again as he looked down into the parking lot. Michonne and Rosita had taken the second watch shift, and they sat on the top of the removal truck talking quietly. A few yards away from them lay six Walkers piled up on each other. Daryl was nowhere to be seen, but his absence was of no concern. Standing in the cool morning air, Rick mentally prepared himself for the long day ahead. Looking at Carrie, he remembered the previous night. The group had communed together in one of the larger rooms, enjoying one another's company and the security of their location.

The dynamic had been different once again, Carrie having settled in even more. Laughter had been free flowing, everyone listening attentively as Glenn gave a blow by blow account of Rick's arrival into Atlanta on horseback. The group listened with interest, even those who knew the story, but Carrie particularly seemed to enjoy herself. She laughed at Glenn's embellishments and exaggerations, shaking her head as he passionately described the Dodge Challenger they had stolen. All in all, it had been a comfortable evening, the group enjoying one another's company within the security of four solid walls.

"Tea, huh?" Rick began, making conversation. "I thought your drink of choice was a vanilla mocha."

"Extra hot, extra espresso, hold the foam," she confirmed, smiling at his observation. "I just can't find a damn Starbuck's that's open."

Rick laughed at this, enjoying her sense of humour. That was another thing he had learnt about her last night…she had a pretty decent sense of humour, her witty remarks coming quick and fast the more she settled in.

"Alright, Dad," Carl yawned, coming out fully dressed. "What's to do?"

Still smiling, Rick looked around at his son, amused by his long yawn. "Brushed your teeth? Packed your bag?"

"Yes."

"Check the drinking water in each of the cars. There needs to be enough for a couple of days."

"You did that last night."

"Just check it."

"But-"

"If you're going to complain, I'll just keep coming up with more jobs. Go on…it's gotta be checked."

Possibly deciding whether or not he was going to risk receiving more jobs, Carl hesitated before turning on the spot and heading downstairs. "You sound just like Mom," he grumbled.

"Good." He watched as Carl went from car to car, checking the drinking water and also the spare gasoline. "How did you sleep last night?" he asked Carrie.

"Amazingly," she replied, positively beaming. "I can't believe I slept in a bed…an actual bed."

Rick nodded, understanding. "First time we slept in a bed after being on the road, I thought it was some kind of trick…that it couldn't be real."

"Was that at the prison, or back at Aaron's camp?"

"Both," he answered, hearing others beginning to rouse from their beds. Looking at his watch, he decided that he would allow thirty minutes before he insisted on hitting the road. They needed to eat, double check the supplies in each car, and reconfirm the routes and detours they were taking. "I'd better get this place organised."

"How can I help?" Carrie offered.

"Relax…drink your tea," he told her, heading inside the room and grabbing his and Glenn's packs. "We'll take care of this."

Carrie shook her head, putting her tea aside. "No…I can pull my weight. Your group has already looked after me for two days. What can I do?"

Rick hesitated, unsure of what he should delegate to her. As much as he was beginning to like and enjoy her company, he wasn't sure of how to treat her…was she a part of their group now? That was the purpose of her being with them, to join their group. He looked at her uncertainly, admiring her insistence that she contribute.

"Alright," he said, realising he was staring at her again. He had done that a lot the previous night, and it had taken a swift kick from Daryl to make him realise. "Here, you can take down everyone's packs."

"Sure," she agreed, happily accepting the bags he passed to her. Though they were of fair weight, she slung them over her shoulder with ease. Daryl was right…she was stronger than she looked. "Leave it with me."

"Alright," he said again, watching as she descended the stairs.

She turned and looked over her shoulder, finding him still watching her. "Any car?"

He nodded hastily, his stomach squirming uncomfortably. "Yeah," he replied without thinking. "Any car is fine…"

Rick remained where he stood, his feet frozen to the ground as Carrie reached the parking lot and deposited the packs into the back of the Dodge. Was Daryl right? Only yesterday he had asked if he liked her…and the day before he had claimed Rick was making eyes at her. Giving the thought due consideration, Rick knew that Daryl wasn't completely wrong…he liked Carrie…but then again so did everyone else. But was everyone else watching her the same way Rick was? Was everyone else getting occasionally tongue tied, or catching themselves staring longer than necessary?

Trying to snap out of it, he reminded himself that he was supposed to be suspicious of her, cautious of any problems she might cause. Although she had settled in well, she was still an outsider, permeating a well established group with a delicate dynamic. He turned away and headed back inside, standing in the middle of the room and wondering what to do next. There were a lot of things to be done before they departed, but suddenly they all evaded him, leaving his mind blank except for Carrie…A sudden thought occurred to him, so ridiculous it almost made him laugh out loud. Perhaps he had a crush on her…the type of stupid, embarrassing crush a sixteen year old would have.

"Have you got a crush on her?" Glenn yawned, suddenly sitting up.

"What?" Rick asked, alarmed that someone was voicing his exact thoughts. How long had Glenn been awake?

"Relax, drink your tea" Glenn mimicked as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "You never tell me to relax and drink tea."

"Glenn," he began in warning.

"It's alright to have a crush on her," Glenn continued, not detecting Rick's tone. "I mean, once she washed the Walker guts off, she-"

"Glenn…shut up."

Looking at him, Glenn raised his eyebrows, not at all intimidated. "Daryl said you'd be touchy about it," he muttered under his breath, grabbing his toothbrush and heading into the bathroom.

"I don't," he denied hotly. "Glenn, I do-"

"Stop staring at her then," he shrugged, closing the bathroom door.

He opened his mouth to argue, but quickly thought better of it. Turning on his heel, he went downstairs and set about getting organised, pointedly not looking at Carrie. She was talking to Rosita and Michonne who sat atop the removal truck, asking how their night had been. Seeing that everyone else was emerging from their rooms, Rick lit the camping stove Daryl had found and began toasting slices of bread, having Carl spread them with toppings and deliver them to the others. Within ten minutes everyone was in full swing, the excellent night of sleep putting them all in a good mood. The only one who seemed out of sorts was Rick himself, Daryl and Glenn's insightfulness plaguing him with concerns that they might be right.

With reluctance, he let his eyes wander over to Carrie, who was presently collecting more packs and delivering them to the different vehicles. Her mere presence began to annoy him now, and he wondered if Glenn's insight was accurate. He was attracted to Carrie, that much he had determined the day he picked her up, but attraction didn't mean anything. But try as he might, Rick found his eyes continually wandering over to her, wondering what she was talking about with Tobin, what it was he said to make her laugh.

"Dad!" Carl exclaimed. "That's our last piece!"

Looking down, Rick clenched his jaw in frustration, seeing that he had practically set the crust of bread on fire as he cooked it. "Shit," he swore uncharacteristically, flicking it off the fork and onto the ground. He glared at it, as though it were the reason he had found himself staring at Carrie yet again.

"Geez, Dad. No need to owe me a quarter over a piece of bread."

Sighing, Rick looked at his son with a wry smile. "Yeah yeah, put it on my tab."

Glenn passed him by, seeing the piece of blackened bread. "Weren't paying attention?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Ignoring him, Rick turned off the camp stove and opened a packet of Pop Tarts, giving them to Carl to continue distributing. Furious with himself, he started glaring at Carrie instead of staring, as if she had intentionally made him burn the bread. Their morning routine passed quickly, and by the time he and Abraham had spread out their map and were confirming their route, he had reluctantly accepted it. He was attracted to Carrie…he had a perfectly innocent crush that would eventually blow over. He was a grown man…this wasn't the first crush he had on a woman, even when he and Lori were married. He knew that it didn't mean anything…attraction to the opposite sex was completely normal. The sooner he started acting like an adult, and not a teenager, the sooner it would pass.

"Rick?" Abraham demanded in frustration. "You've been looking at the same damn spot on the map for five minutes now…a better route is not going to magically appear."

"Yeah, right," he said hastily, realising his thoughts had trailed off again. He refocused, realising where he was and what he was meant to be doing. "Sorry…"

"So you're happy then?"

"Huh?"

Abraham sighed, rolling his eyes. He pointed to a spot on the map, his movements jerky and annoyed. "We take the long way around these towns, and then cut through this district to make up time…then these roads directly to the prison should be clear, according to you. Are you happy with that?"

He wasn't, Abraham's preferred route far too long for Rick's liking. But as he did with Carl, he knew when to pick his battles. Given his inattention during the last five minutes, an argument now was of no benefit. "That sounds fine."

"We should be there by late afternoon," Abraham continued, sensing Rick's displeasure.

"Good," he said, casting his mind back to the state they had left the prison in. "Depending on the damage, we might be able to clear the lower field and stay there the night. If not, we can stay in one of the towers."

"We're on the same page then," Abraham declared, folding up the map and handing it to Nicholas. "You and Aidan take the lead in the minivan…you're navigating."

"Have we got everything?" Rick asked the group at large. Already filing into cars, everyone gave nods of approval.

"I'm going in the minivan," Michonne told him. "Want to stretch out and sleep…Carl's going with you."

"I'm with Aaron," Daryl muttered, walking past and heading to the red sedan.

"And I'm driving the Dodge," Glenn declared, attempting to snatch the keys from Rick's hand.

Clenching the key ring, he stared Glenn down as they engaged in a small tug of war. "No Daft Punk."

"Black Eyed Peas?"

Knowing better than to admit he approved of that suggestion, Rick released the keys and let Glenn think he won. Lingering for a moment, he looked around at the motel, wanting to be sure they were indeed ready. Glenn and Tobin had checked all of the rooms, all of their packs were in the cars…each car had drinking water, food rations, spare gasoline and a first aid kit. There was nothing left behind…nothing had been overlooked. Checking that he had both guns and his machete safely secured to his duty belt, Rick headed towards the passenger seat of the car. He stopped as reached for the door handle, seeing Carrie in the back seat beside Carl. Looking through the window, he caught Glenn's eye, immediately suspecting that he had told her to join their car. Taking a deep breath, and reminding himself that his attraction to her was completely normal, Rick opened the door and got in.

To his relief, Carrie had taken the seat behind his…he didn't have to look at her. She and Carl were laughing at something when he got in, Carl's smile putting Rick at ease. As Glenn started the engine, Rick looked into the back and made sure Carl was wearing his seatbelt, putting on his own when he saw that he was. For a second time he caught Glenn's eye, not liking the sly smile he received.

"Don't," he said sharply. Glenn only smiled more, the action really setting Rick's nerves on edge. "I'm serious…don't."

Suitably chastised, Glenn straightened his face and looked at the other cars, removing the handbrake and following the removal truck in their usual formation. There was the usual tension the group felt as they drove through the town. Although Daryl had taken an early morning walk and ensured the town was still clear, they still waited with bated breath for the convoy of four vehicles to safely make their way through, taking one of the country roads further south.

"Radio check," came Abraham's gruff voice.

The three other vehicles responded in kind, reassuring each other that their connection was good. There was silence as the vehicles picked up speed, Rick growing more and more relaxed with each mile that passed, knowing they were closer and closer to the prison. They had allowed one or two days to completely strip the prison of its resources, and two additional days for various places they wanted to try on the way home.

They were behind schedule, but still within a reasonable time frame. Carol and Maggie knew not to worry until they were gone more than two weeks, but it was Rick who worried about them. The Walkers with W carved into their forehead had put them all on edge, constantly fearing that there was another threat outside their walls, another threat that came from people, not the dead. While Carol maintained her facade of innocent den mother, and Maggie worked inconspicuously with Deanna, he knew their whole group were ready for anything. They wouldn't let their guard down…none of them. But still, Rick worried what they would find when they returned.

Comforted by their proximity to the prison, Rick settled back and made himself comfortable for what was sure to be a long day of travelling.


	8. Chapter 8

Eight hours later, as the sun descended into the sky and nightfall drew nearer, Rick was reluctantly beginning to accept the idea that they weren't going to make it to the prison that day. Their good start had only lasted for so long, their journey slow and arduous. After only three hours they had discarded their planned route, continually hampered by roads blocked with traffic jams and small clusters of Walkers. By the time they had pushed through the more difficult roads, stopped in another town to replenish their gas, and then found themselves on a safe route, they had wasted the better part of the day. They had travelled for eight hours, and had little progress to show for it.

Rick and Glenn had been swapping throughout the day, both of them quickly tiring thanks to the frustrating delays. Carl hadn't even asked if he could drive, knowing that the roads weren't safe and that Rick's patience wasn't to be tested. Although he preferred driving, Rick had found he was particularly drained that day, and he half considered asking Carrie to drive. Something held him back from asking her. He was sure she was quite capable, and that she would happily drive, but he didn't ask. The only thing that had broken up the frustration was the frequent debates about the choice of music, Rick forced to endure Glenn or Carl's choice any time he wasn't driving. Apparently the rules of shotgun still applied.

Suddenly Carl laughed, breaking Rick from his thoughts. Dragging his attention away from the passing scenery he turned and looked at his son, wondering what was so funny.

"Didn't you hear the joke?"

"I wasn't listening…go on."

It was Carrie who spoke up next. Still sitting next to him in the back seat, they had been playing cards for the last hour. "Why are clowns safe from Biters?"

Rick considered this, looking to Glenn. "I don't know."

Carl laughed again, struggling to deliver the punch line with a straight face. "Because they taste funny."

With a soft groan, Rick smiled at the way Carl tried to contain his laughter. "That's terrible."

"It's better than your jokes," Carl teased, narrowing his eyes. "Your jokes are lame."

"I'm sure they're not," Carrie came to his defence. "Tell us a joke."

Rick thought for a moment, put on the spot. "I don't know any…" he denied, turning back to the front.

"Yes you do," Carl protested. "Tell us a dirty one."

Raising his eyebrows, he turned around again. "I'm not telling you a dirty joke."

"Are you afraid I'll understand it?"

"Yes."

"Go on, please," Carl begged.

"Yeah, go on," Glenn added. "He won't get it…"

Rick sighed, looking out the windscreen as he tried to think. Fourteen was too young to be hearing dirty jokes, especially from one's father. A suitable one coming to him, he opened his mouth as though he were going to start, and then stopped himself. "I dunno, Carl…it's probably too dirty for you."

"Go on," he insisted.

"Alright," he turned around, keeping a straight face. "But I should warn you…it's pretty Grime-y."

Carl frowned for a moment, rolling his eyes when he finally got the punch line. "Dad," he groaned. "Seriously?"

"You're the one who said it would be lame," Rick shrugged listening as Carl explained to Carrie.

"Come on," Carl prompted again. "Tell me the joke."

"That was it."

"That doesn't count…"

"It's all I got, sorry."

Even as Carl sighed and sat back in annoyance, Rick was pleased. He lived for the times when Carl acted like a regular kid, for the times he groaned about chores or laughed at his bad jokes. As they settled in to Alexandria, Carl's mood had slowly declined, reflecting his struggle to assimilate with the people his age who he had little in common with. His experiences outside the walls influenced his every day life, and it was difficult to combine his past and present. But the moment Rick had reluctantly agreed that Carl could come on the supply run back to the prison, his mood had improved. There had been more moments like this one, where father and son teased and made one another laugh.

"Alright, I've got a 'dad joke' for you," Rick said, turning to the back seat as the car came around a bend in the road. "What do you call a guy with a car-"

Rick was suddenly cut off, feeling the car lurch as the sound of squealing brakes made him whirl around. Before he could see what was going on an enormous mass hit the left hand side of the car, the incredible force jolting the occupants and making them veer to the right. The impact reverberated through the vehicle's shell, Glenn struggling to hang on to the steering wheel as the wheels began to squeal again.

As if watching from a bird's eye view, Rick watched the car gracefully skidding sideways, the tyres meeting the side of the road and kicking up a cloud of dirt. It was over in seconds, and he didn't even have enough time to turn back and look to Carl, although what he would have done he didn't know. The rear tyres slid down the embankment, and there was another rough jolt as a feeling of displacement embraced them.

It felt as though they were floating, the sensation strangely peaceful for just a few moments. With grand finality, Rick's world came to a crashing stop, his eyes closing with all the ease of falling asleep.

* * *

It was the strangest feeling Rick had ever experienced…like he was floating…like the ground he was standing on wasn't quite solid. Engulfed in peaceful serenity, Rick stood by Judith's crib, feeling a strange sense of being in two places at once. Was it deja vu? There was a strange sense of limbo, his vision blurred and fuzzy around the edges. In the back of his mind he knew he was dreaming, but comforted by the peaceful sensation, he didn't fight it, not wanting to wake up.

He could feel a rhythmic thud against his shoulder that was strangely pleasant, keeping in time with the way he patted Judith on the back, putting her to sleep. His heart filling with warmth, he looked down at his little girl, always enjoying the way her forehead rested in the crook of his neck as she fell asleep. Carl called out to him from somewhere, his voice sounding distant, but Rick did not respond. Instead, he watched Judith's tiny hand as it reached up for him, seeking out his beard. As they always did, her fingernails scraped his newly smooth skin, but tonight she clawed at him…drawing blood. It didn't hurt though. He could still hear Carl in the back ground, his voice beginning to sound frantic. Watching droplets of his blood stain the collar of Judith's pyjamas, Rick found he didn't mind.

He let her scratch him again.

The sound of Carl's voice grew stronger, and the rhythmic thuds against Rick's upper arm became an annoyance, not a pleasant reassurance. His mind was suddenly telling him to wake up, Shane's loud voice breaking the silence and telling him to open his eyes. Rick resisted with all his might, dreading the moments in the middle of the night when Shane's voice haunted him. Though he couldn't bear to open his eyes and see Shane's face, he felt like he was starting to catch up.

He wasn't in Alexandria. That thought slowly penetrated as he began to rouse from his strange state of limbo.

Something was wrong…something bad. Panic began to flood Rick's head, his heart beginning to race. Judith wasn't there right now, but Carl was. He was crying…Rick's name falling from his mouth again and again as someone else shouted loudly, telling him to shut up. There was silence next…broken by an awful sob he recognised as his son's.

"Dad!" Carl shouted again, his voice heavy with fear. "Dad, wake up! Wake up!"

The blows to his arm started again, followed up by a swift blow to his head that hurt immensely. Groaning, Rick cringed away from the source of the pain, his eyes fluttering open but unable to make sense of what they were seeing. From somewhere behind him Carl gave a moan of relief, followed by Glenn's voice trying to comfort him. Blinking rapidly, Rick coughed as he properly roused. Something was wrong…even though he couldn't see and he couldn't think, he knew something was terribly wrong. He wasn't dreaming…

"Carl?" he managed to croak, struggling to understand.

"I'm here…Dad?"

Rubbing his face, Rick felt the warmth of blood in his hair, and moment by moment he grew more aware. Reality greeted him slowly, reassuring him that Shane wasn't there… he wasn't there. Looking around he remembered that he was in the car…they were heading for the prison. But everything was wrong, making him feel displaced and dizzy. The way up was no longer up…and down was no longer down. Trying to make sense, he groaned in confusion. In one horrifying moment it all came down upon him…they had crashed.

His mind brought him back to the loud bang that had taken them all by surprise, to the jerk of the car as it swerved out of control and skidded off the road. Wiping at his eyes, he looked through the damaged windscreen, only just able to make out the empty road ahead and the grass area where the car lay. Slowly making sense of things, he realised that the car lay on its side, explaining why up no longer felt like up. The horizon in front of him was turned on it's side, and wet grass was pressed up against the passenger window.

Suddenly the seriousness of the situation clicked in Rick's mind.

"Carl?" he said urgently, twisting around and looking for him in the back seat. Carl's body hung awkwardly in the air, suspended by the seatbelt Rick had insisted he fasten. His feet hung by Rick's shoulder, having stretched out as far as he could to reach his him, to kick him until he roused. Though a little blood dripped down his frighten face, overall he appeared unharmed.

"I'm okay," he panted, struggling against the seatbelt that was pressing into his abdomen. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to bear his own weight. "Dad, we've crashed."

"I know," he groaned, shaking his head to clear it.

He looked directly above himself to Glenn, raising his eyebrows. The whole left hand side of the car looked like it was bulging inwards, both windows shattered, but holding together. Just like Carl, Glenn was suspended by his seatbelt, but he too appeared unharmed. He turned and looked into the backseat again, finding Carrie directly behind him. She was awake, her eyes wide as she panted to catch her breath. Like Rick, her position in the car meant she had borne the brunt of the impact when it rolled onto it's side. She was trembling, a line of blood dripping from her nose. Now that Rick had roused, the occupants of the car were quiet and still.

Concerned about the car's stability, Rick moved very carefully to take off his seat belt, the release letting him situate himself properly. Clenching his jaw, he tried to ignore the ache in his head and chest as he looked out the windscreen again.

"How long was I out?"

"A couple of minutes."

"Where is everyone?" he asked next, still looking through the windscreen. He couldn't see or hear any of their group coming back to them…surely they were coming back for them.

"I don't think they saw us," Glenn said. "I was…I was driving too far back."

"Rick? The radio's under your seat," Carrie said urgently. "I can't reach it."

The pain of his injuries was beginning to flourish now, making him flinch as he moved around, trying to reach underneath the his seat. He struggled to manoeuvre his body into the right position, wondering when the spacious interior of the Dodge became so damn cramped. His movements were stiff and awkward, his brain struggling to adjust to the fact that the world had tipped on its side. Contorting his body, he reached underneath his seat and brushed his fingertips against something that might have been the antenna. Breathing out, he reached even further underneath, but without coordination he fumbled, the small piece of plastic moving further out of his reach.

"Carrie, try again," he told her breathlessly. "I think I pushed it back."

"I still can't reach it. Put your seat forward."

Grunting in discomfort, Rick rearranged his long limbs again and fumbled about for the lever. There was silence as he found the piece of plastic, his other hand grabbing onto the rear vision mirror to create leverage. Further confining himself into the small space, Rick pulled the seat forward a few inches, gasping as white lights appeared in front of his eyes for his effort. There was more silence as Carrie reached under the seat, grabbing the bottom of the radio and tugging at it.

"It's stuck," she groaned, the plastic banging against the metal underneath the seat. "Rick, mov-"

"Oh shit," Glenn interrupted them. "We've got Walkers."

Almost as if on cue, there was a heavy thud from the under side of the car, the familiar sound of moaning permeating the interior. There was a flash of panic from the occupants before Rick acted quickly. He pulled the seat forward as far as it would go, freeing the radio for Carrie to grab. Simultaneously he began looking around, trying to see through the cracked glass to make out how many threats they faced. There were more thuds from the underside of the car, the sound of scraping fingernails and growling increasing in volume. Rick was uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable they were, trapped inside the car with no one coming to help them. For now they were protected, but only for as long as the damaged windows held out against the force of the Walkers.

"Carl, get your gun," Rick told him, staying calm.

"It's in the back," he moaned, trying to twist around and reach for the contents of the trunk that were strewn about. "I - I took my gun belt off."

Rick didn't waste time being angry with him. He took his spare weapon from the back of his belt and reached through to the back to give it to his son, his hunting knife following a moment later. As Carl armed himself there was a shout of success, Carrie finally reaching the radio.

"Abraham," Carrie gasped down the radio. "We've crashed, we're surrounded by Biters! You've gotta come back for us!"

Abraham's reply was drowned out by the sound of breaking glass, Carrie being littered with shards of the sunroof as two dead hands reached inside, grappling for anything they could find. Rick looked in horror, watching as one hand wrapped itself around Carl's leg, the Walker using it to pull itself inside. Their reaction was instant, Rick drawing his machete and preparing to attack, to defend his son from being bitten, but Carrie was faster. She dropped the radio and began kicking at the Walker, keeping it's head out of the car until Rick could bring forward his own attack. Blood and gore rained down on her as she kicked, brutally breaking the skull. Seconds later Carl's leg was free, but the sound of their efforts and the other's calling back to them on the radio only served to rile the Walkers up even more.

They were piling up on the windscreen now, their rotting faces pressed against the broken glass and looking at the occupants with interest. They climbed over top of each other to reach the driver's side window high up in the air. The car rocked unsteadily, the weight of the Wakers and their panicked movements inside making it shift a little. Moments later, the windscreen and Carl's window began bulging inwards. Rick was torn between trying to protect Carl and trying to protect all of them, knowing that he couldn't let the windscreen break. If it did, the Walkers would have free access to each of them…it would be over in less than a minute.

"Carl, get your seatbelt off!" Rick shouted. The seatbelt that had probably saved him from major injury now held him prisoner, directly below the breaking glass. "Get it off!"

Putting his feet against the windscreen, he tried to brace it against collapse, but he couldn't get the right angle. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing Carl still fumbling with the seat belt. "Carl!"

"I'm trying!" he cried out, struggling with the release.

Seeing his predicament, Carrie reached up and snatched the knife out of Carl's hand. Working as fast as she could, she sawed at the strong seatbelt, slowly managing to cut it as the top of the window bulged out of the frame.

Seeing this, Glenn released himself from his seatbelt and struggled upright, breaking his own window and forcing his way through it. He began firing, slowly emerging from his window to take the offensive. The Walkers pressing on Carl's window fell dead, Glenn emptying the magazine into every Walker he could see just as Carl fell out of his seatbelt. He collapsed down onto Carrie, and Rick watched helplessly as she manoeuvred him out of harms way and turned her attention to the sunroof, where more Walkers were trying to reach in. Rick was helplessly stuck bracing the windscreen, praying for their group to arrive, forced to trust that a woman he had known two days would protect his child. Just as he thought things couldn't get worse, he felt the car slipping on the wet grass, the sensation making the bottom of his stomach drop out.

"Glenn! We're slipping," Rick cried, reaching up and grabbing the back of his shirt. As the car began to slide down, he roughly tugged Glenn back through the driver's window, shattered glass raining down on both of them. "Carl?"

Before he could look for him, the car slid down the embankment, no doubt assisted by the Walkers who were still throwing themselves up against it. The world turned on it's side again, tossing the occupants around with ease. Miraculously the car rolled only once, rocking as it settled on it's roof before sliding a few more yards. It slowly came to a stop, the strong metal frame groaning.

As they had after Rick had awoken, the four of them fell silent, digesting the sudden change of events and trying to understand what it meant for them. With the car on it's roof, their luggage and supplies were strewn about the car even more, making it difficult to properly get into a defensive position. Situating himself, Rick's heart fell when he saw that all of the windows were smashed to pieces now, allowing the Walkers complete access to them inside. Their main protection was gone, and for the first time in months Rick began to truly fear that they were going to die. This could be it…the moment he had been trying to put off for so long. But he knew he had one job to do, one person to protect for as long as possible.

"Carl," he gasped, looking for him as the Walkers reached the car again. Hands began reaching for them, jaws snapping seriously close. "Carl, you have to fight! Just keep them away from you!"

He nodded, gratefully taking Rick's machete as it was passed to him. Without thought, and with each of them armed with something, they began fighting back, desperately trying to protect themselves for as long as possible. His revolver ready, Rick furiously kicked at any Walker that came into reach, emptying his revolver into any others approaching. Glenn and Carl fired too, the gunshots painfully loud in the car. Their defence was so loud Rick didn't hear the other cars come screeching to a stop…it was their gunfire that he heard first, the sound of help having never sounded so sweet. Car doors opened and shouts echoed, shots being fired in quick succession.

"Get under me!" Carrie shouted, reached for Carl.

Hearing bullets pelting the car's exterior, the four occupants quickly made themselves as small as possible, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire. Listening to the shouts of their group, Rick looked into the backseat to see Carl, finding him pressed beneath Carrie with his head down. In that moment Carl looked up at him, the fearful look on his face reminding Rick just how young he really was. Their situation now was completely beyond his control. He wished he could at least offer some comfort, some words that would reassure him that everything would be okay. But there was nothing he could say or do except reach through to the back, offering his hand. Carl immediately grabbed for him, squeezing tightly as he closed his eyes and waited.

Not even a second later, the grip on Rick's hand tightened painfully, Carl crying out in shock. He gasped for breath, Rick watching his face contort in pain before he screamed. In the midst of the gunfire he didn't know what had happened, or how badly he was hurt. All he could do was hope that it wasn't a Walker making his son scream, that it was something else…anything else. Noticing his injury, Carrie pushed herself up and looked for the source, her eyes widening as she dove for something behind them.

"Rick!" Glenn shouted. "Rick, come on!"

Looking round, he saw that Glenn was outside his window, reaching back in for him. He acted without thinking, knowing what he needed to do. Letting go of Carl's hand, Rick instead reached for Glenn's, wrestling his body out of the car as fast as he could. The scene outside of the car was practically comical, dead Walker's strewn everywhere as their group advanced, their guns raised as they took out the threat as quickly as possible. Somehow squeezing himself through what was left of the driver's window, Rick didn't waste time in trying to stand, instead moving straight to the rear window. Michonne was already there, kneeling on dead Walkers as she reached in for Carl and started hauling him out.

Reaching in too, Rick grabbed the back of Carl's jeans and helped Michonne pull, trying not to hear Carl yelling in pain with each movement. Slowly he emerged through the broken window, Michonne dragging him a few feet away from the car and collapsing. Rick set upon him immediately, looking for the injury. His left thigh was covered in dark red blood, the colour spreading with alarming speed from two wounds on the front and back.

"He's been shot," Rick panted, someone rushing over with a large towel. He helped press the heavy cloth over both wounds, stemming the blood flow even as Carl screamed and kicked out. He looked back at the car, where Carrie still remained in the car. "Mich-"

"Get him in the car," Aidan instructed calmly, moving Rick's hand aside and covering the wounds himself. "Back of the van, now!"

They picked Carl up and headed for the car, Michonne taking his shoulders and Rick taking his legs. His heart broke at the way Carl clenched his teeth and held his breath, his face deathly white as they deposited him on the bench seat in the minivan. Before Rick could do anything else, Aidan roughly shoved him out of the way, applying pressure to Carl's leg and yelling at Michonne to get in.

"Get the others," Nicholas shouted, he and Tobin leaping into the front seat. Seconds later the minivan took off, it's tyres squealing as it fled to get Carl to the removal truck where the majority of their medical supplies were.

Rick stood there in disbelief, unable to truly comprehend what had happened. He watched as the minivan sped away and disappeared around the corner ahead, taking his son towards the help he needed…without him. For a long terrible moment he stood there in shock, wondering what to do, how to help him. In a moment of sheer confusion, he turned and looked back down the road, seeing Walkers feasting on an enormous buck. For one fleeting moment Rick remembered the accident, recalling the way the animal had suddenly appeared on the road and ran straight into them as they drove past.

Getting his head together, Rick raced back to the crashed car, where Glenn, Daryl and Aaron were busy fending off more Walkers that appeared from the woods. Carrie was almost out of the window, struggling to free her foot from something. A Walker was advancing towards her from behind the car, and realising he was unarmed, Rick threw himself against it as hard as he could. It fell to the ground, it's hands still reaching for him, clawing. Moving forward, Rick raised his foot to stomp on it.

"Step back!" Daryl growled, raising his crossbow.

Leaping back, Rick let him take the Walker out with a bolt, quickly turning and checking for more immediate danger. He turned to Carrie next, practically diving in through the window to free her foot from the twisted seatbelt.

"Come on!" he shouted, helping her to her knees. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah," she gasped uncertainly, trembling in shock.

She tried to properly find her feet, scrambling on the wet slope until Rick stepped in again. Both of her forearms were slick with dark red blood, and so he put his arm around her middle and grabbed the waistband of her jeans. Hauling her to her feet, he pulled her arm around his shoulder. "Come on!" he shouted to the others, he and Carrie heading for the remaining car. "Let's go!"

He shoved Carrie into the backseat and turned to fight off another Walker. Kicking it to the ground, he stomped on it's head as Aaron and Glenn raced over, throwing themselves into the car and starting the engine. Daryl lingered a moment, dodging a slower Walker as he retrieved some of his bolts. Hearing Aaron rev the engine impatiently, he abandoned the last one and came running back to the car. Aaron was speeding off before Daryl even closed the door, the wheels squealing loudly as he weaved in and out of more Walkers.

There was silence, Rick panting for breath as the five of them began to digest what had happened. In an instant their day of frustratingly long detours had become even worse, leaving four of them fighting to survive yet again. As adrenaline coursed through his body, Rick tried to remember the last time he had fought for his life quite like that…the last time he had truly feared those might be his last moments.

"Where's the radio?" he demanded.

From the front seat, Daryl silently tossed it back to him, he too in shock. Fumbling with the button, Rick raised it to his mouth and asked the burning question. "Carl? Is he alive?" There was a long wait, no response coming from the radio. "Michonne! Tobin!" Rick shouted now. "What's happening?"

Still there was no response, making Rick fear the worst. He dropped the radio and slumped back in the seat, feeling panicked. Why weren't they responding? Surely someone could reply to him, to tell Rick what was happening to his son. A number of possibilities flooded his mind, and they all lead back to the worst possibility. Carl was dead…or at least close to. Shot in the leg, without a hospital or even Hershel to treat him, his death was a stark possibility. Feeling like he was going to be sick, Rick pictured the bullet piercing bone, or severing an artery. If the femoral artery had been compromised, they wouldn't be able to save him. He'd be dead in minutes…he could be dead already.

"What happened to Carl?" Aaron asked, increasing his pressure on the gas. "Was he bit?"

"Shot," Glenn answered softly.

At this, Aaron increased the gas even more, the car speeding towards the spot where they had left the removal truck. To Rick's surprise, he felt Carrie reach over and take his hand, grasping it gently. He took it gratefully, but found he couldn't look at her…he couldn't look at anyone, already feeling their sympathy and concern. He had to keep himself together, he couldn't crumble…not yet. If Carl was dying, he needed his father to stay in control, to be there and comfort him, not the other way around.

After what felt like forever, the removal truck and minivan came into view on the road ahead, Rick watching in relief as everyone bustled around animatedly. Tobin stood in the back of the truck, tossing supplies from their first aid kit down to Nicholas. As the sedan skidded to a stop, Rick practically fell out the back door and ran to the minivan.

"Carl?" he cried, looking in the back seat.

Carl lay on the back seat, gasping for breath as Michonne tried to comfort him. Abraham sat in the back, holding firm pressure on Carl's leg as he elevated it as best he could. Rick looked on in shock, casting his eyes to the floor of the van where a discarded towel lay. It was soaked through with dark red blood…Carl's blood. Letting the scene sink in he reminded himself to breath, trying not to think about the last time this had happened. Just as he was about to go forward, Abraham looked up at him.

"Carl says your blood type A?" he questioned immediately.

"Yes."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

"Roll up your sleeve," Abraham instructed calmly. "He's going to need a transfusion. Aidan!"

Aidan appeared by Rick's side moments later, helping him roll up his sleeve before pulling on some rubber gloves. He slapped a tourniquet around Rick's bicep and pulled it tight. Stretching Rick's arm out, he critiqued the crook of his elbow, hastily wiping it down with an alcohol wipe.

"Make a fist," he instructed, his voice steady. "Again…again…"

Looking back to Carl, Rick did as instructed, not noticing when Aidan clumsily pierced the crook of his arm twice before successfully finding the vein. His son lay on the back seat, his body trembling as he looked around for Rick. Before he could say or do anything to comfort him, Aidan was steering him away and making him sit on the front seat.

"Michonne, cut around the leg of his jeans," Abraham instructed, fully in control of the situation. "We'll get them off in a minute. Nicholas? Get the blue ziplock bag Pete gave us, the one with the jar and clear cords. Give it to Aidan."

"Aidan," Rick said whispered, fearing the answer to the question he hadn't even asked. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know…"

"Just tell me, please," he begged, looking back at Carl. "How bad is it?"

Aidan looked torn, clenching his jaw as he too looked at Carl. "I don't know," he repeated. "It might be just a flesh wound."

"You don't think it hit the bone?"

Shaking his head, Aidan taped down the cannula in the crook of Rick's arm. "He'd be in even more pain if it had. It probably missed the femoral too…Arterial blood would be bright red," he explained quietly. "This blood is dark, so it's not a major artery."

Rick nodded, watching as Aidan began attaching the clear plastic tubes to the cannula. A moment later blood began to flow, coursing down the clear tube and dripping into a jar that sat on the asphalt. Even as their group milled around the car, even as they took down a few Walkers who appeared on the sidelines, there was awful silence. Everyone was waiting with bated breath. Even Carl was relatively quiet now, the only sound being Michonne's calm words of comfort as she stroked his hair and held his hand.

"What can we do?" Rick asked, his voice heavy with fear. When Aidan didn't reply he turned around and looked into the back. "Abraham?"

There was a long pause before Abraham replied. He looked between Carl and Rick as he gave his answer. "I'm not Pete…" he thought for a moment, and when he spoke next he appeared to be talking to himself, running through a mental check list. "We'll keep the pressure on until the bleeding stops. When it does, we can start replenishing blood loss."

"That's all?"

"That's all," Aidan said next. "We won't know more until we can take a proper look at it."

"Rick," Michonne said, leaning into the front. "Carl's asking for you."

As he made to stand up, Aidan stopped him for just a moment. "You need to keep it together," he whispered lowly. "Get him to calm down…slowing his pulse will help the bleeding."

Rick nodded, steeling himself. He could do that…he could calm him down. Picking up the jar of blood, Aidan carried it as Rick stepped out of the front seat, swapping places with Michonne. Trying not to look at his leg, Rick sat down beside Carl and tried to be reassuring. It didn't last for long, Rick's resolve breaking as soon as Carl looked up at him. His face was white, his features screwed up in pain as he tried so hard to be brave.

"Dad," he whispered, his voice weakened. "It's hurts…so much."

"I know," Rick agreed, reaching out and stroking his hair off his face. He clenched his throat, trying to stem the moisture falling down his cheeks. "Think about something else, okay? Think about Judith."

Carl shuddered, clutching at Rick's shirt as he began sobbing in pain. Though he wanted to let him cry, Rick very quickly tried to calm him, remembering Aidan's request.

"Stop," he said firmly. "Carl, we can cry later, I promise you. But right now you gotta be calm, you've gotta slow your pulse down."

His jaw quivering, Carl nodded. He glanced up at Rick, his eyes narrowing. "You stop crying first."

Rick cleared his throat and nodded. "I will, okay?…See? All done…"

Laying his arm around Carl's middle, Rick embraced him as best he could, tenderly kissing his forehead. Reassuring him he wouldn't leave, Rick quickly made himself comfortable, watching as Aidan hovered by Abraham's side. The two of them worked methodically, peeling off the left leg of Carl's jeans and quickly wiping down his skin. Seconds later fresh towels were pressed against the wounds, Abraham applying renewed pressure along the path of the bullet. A few minutes passed in silence, Rick feeling Carl's pulse. It was still fast, but no longer beat in the rapid panic as it had before.

"Rick," Abraham said, getting his attention.

Looking over, he watched as he removed the towels and showed Rick the extent of Carl's injury. Moaning in relief, Rick put his head in his hand, letting tears flow without abandon. The entrance and exit wounds showed the trajectory of the bullet, which only passed through the side of Carl's thigh, a major stroke of luck.

"It's still bleeding," Abraham said cautiously, replacing the towels. "But it's not as bad as I first thought. Rosita, get one of the IVs and put it under your shirt to warm it up. Aidan, check how much blood we've got from Rick. Michonne, get a blanket…Nicholas, Rick's going to need something to eat."

Everyone set about the tasks as they were assigned, Rick helping Michonne tuck a blanket around Carl, leaving only his leg exposed. Vigilant of the bleeding, Abraham never left his post, both hands pressed firmly along the length of the wound. Rick too remained where he was, not even pondering the thought of leaving Carl. Even when Aidan needed to insert a cannula into Carl's arm, he did so by leaning over the rear seat, though he fumbled less than he had with Rick. A short while passed in silence, Rick breathing a sigh of relief when Aidan started the blood transfusion. Watching the blood flowing into Carl's arm gave him comfort, just as it had over a year ago when Hershel and Patricia had done this.

Rick was absently aware of the rest of the group, occasionally hearing them taking down a few Walkers that dared approach. A little while later when Carl was considered tentatively stable, his blood pressure rising, Aidan turned his attention to Glenn and Carrie, tending to their injuries. Seeing this, Rick looked down at himself for the first time. His ribs and shoulder ached from the way the seatbelt had secured him in place, and he was littered in cuts and scrapes, no doubt from rolling around in shattered glass and climbing through broken windows. Judging by the crusty sensation on his forehead and his matted hair, his face wasn't much to look at either.

"Dad?" Carl started softly, his eyes a little glazed over from the strong pain killers Aidan had given him. "What was the joke?"

"The joke?" he said dimly, frowning. It took a moment for his head to catch up, to realise what Carl was talking about. He sighed to himself, shaking his head. "Seriously? You want to hear the joke?"

"Was it a 'dad joke'?"

"Yes."

"Then I want to hear it."

Cracking a smile, Rick looked down at Carl's leg, where Abraham was still applying pressure. Realising he had an audience of more than one, Rick recited the joke. "What do you call a guy with a car on his head?"

Abraham snorted, knowing the answer.

"I don't know," Carl mumbled, swallowing thickly.

"Jack."

"Jack?"

"Jack," Rick confirmed. "Because he has a car on his head."

Carl rolled his eyes, although his grimace of pain could be mistaken for a smile. "Don't give up your day job."

Nodding in agreement, Rick raised his hand and brushed Carl's hair back of his face, noting how clammy he felt. "A you warm enough?" he asked, his voice quieter than he wished.

"Yeah."

Slipping it under the blanket, Rick took Carl's hand in his, checking that he was indeed warm enough. He looked at the blood that was slowly making it's way into Carl's arm. The amount was only small at the moment, Aidan starting the transfusion within minutes of Rick's donation, but it was a start at least. Holding Carl's hand in his own, he pressed his fingers to the inside of his wrist and felt the steady pulse. It was still fast and urgent, but it was there.

That's all Rick was depending on.


	9. Chapter 9

The night was quiet, their group sitting close together and keeping their conversation minimal. Having settled into another makeshift camp for the night, they had eaten and were shortly preparing to go to sleep, currently determining who would take the watch shifts that night. They had been forced to continue on, fearing that the side of the road was not safe for them to camp. The car accident had brought dozens of Walkers swarming from the woods, and even a mile up the road they had attracted more attention than they would be able to handle at night, especially with some of them sporting uncomfortable injuries.

They had piled into the cars and pushed on, using the last of their spare gasoline to bring them another forty miles to the next town. It had been dark upon arrival, and though they would have normally basked in the luxury of spending another night indoors, they were reluctant to risk clearing out a house and surroundings after night fall. Instead they had made their camp in the middle of an old sports field, parking the cars in formation against the brick wall of the sport club offices.

The hours since the car accident had passed slowly, as though time wanted to remind Rick of every single moment he and Carl spent alive. Prior to the accident the slow passage of time would have set him on edge, would have made him annoyed and frustrated, but not now. Given what had happened, the urgency of reaching the prison had eased a little…all that mattered to Rick was getting his son through the night. Abraham and Aidan both agreed that if Carl's health would deteriorate, it would happen in the next few hours. A blood clot or deeper internal bleeding…if there was something to hurt him, it would happen soon. So long as they got him through the night, Rick would breathe with ease…the urgency to reach the prison would return again in the morning. Until then, Rick was content, squeezed into the back of the minivan by Carl's side. It wasn't the most comfortable position seated on the floor, but there was no where else he would be.

Carl had been sleeping for a few hours now, the painkillers having a sedative effect on him. It was a relief for Rick to see, glad this his son wasn't awake any more. Though he appeared to be out of danger, the treatment to his leg was agonising, Aidan and Abraham apologising with every swipe of antiseptic, every application of pressure. It was necessary though, and working together they ensured that the process was concluded as soon as possible. A dressing had been applied to each wound, and with stern words for Carl to stay still and keep warm, Abraham and Aidan had started debating about which antibiotic he should take.

With Carl still sleeping, Rick slowly stepped out of the minivan, trying not to jostle the suspension and wake him up. Gritting his teeth through a momentary bout of dizziness, he pressed his fingers to the crook of his elbow, feeling the bruise he had been left with from the cannula. Accepting a second serving of cookies, tinned beans and orange juice, he made himself eat the extra rations, knowing his body would be craving it after a blood donation. Tobin was also enjoying extra rations, he too having type A blood. The moment he realised what Carl needed, he had rolled up his sleeve and stuck his arm out for Aidan, his blood draining into the same jar as Rick's. Between the two of them, Carl's blood loss seemed to have been replenished. With time, the colour had returned to his face, and his cheeks felt less clammy. Their concerns that he might slip into shock were fading now, everyone breathing a little easier, Carl included.

His movements slow and cautious, Rick finished his rations and headed for the medical kit, seeking out a little red pack of pills. Though he had played down the discomfort of his injuries so as to keep the focus on Carl, Rick's body was making a loud protest to him, each movement reminding him of the injuries he had sustained, albeit minor. Radiating from the right side of his head was a God awful headache, the dull throb reminding him of the way he had hit his head and fallen unconscious. Most uncomfortable of all was his left arm, the skin already turning blue from the repeated kicks Carl had given him to try and wake him up. If they made it to the prison tomorrow like planned, with the exception of Carl they were all going to have to help clear it, injured or not. Taking a couple of Tylenol and washing for an ice pack, Rick hoped they were on top of their game tomorrow.

Restless, Rick walked the perimeter of their camp and checked on the Walker alarms, despite the difficulty in actually seeing them. They hadn't been able to light a camp fire that night, feeling too exposed in the middle of a town, and so had to make do with the camping stove to warm their meals and boil water. Determining that they were safe enough for the night, Rick returned to where the group sat together, some already asleep in their sleeping bags, some staying up a little longer. Aaron and Nicholas sat atop the removal truck keeping watch, giving Rick a short nod when he glanced up at them. Checking that Carl was still sleeping, Rick approached Daryl who stood by one of the cars, a well-deserved cigarette burning between his lips.

"Hey," he greeted him.

Daryl responded in typical fashion, grunting and jerking his head a little.

"Thank you," Rick began, having said those words so many times that day. "For going back to the car."

Raising his eyebrows, Daryl made the effort of removing his cigarette to reply. "We wouldn't o' left you there."

"No, I mean the second time," he clarified quietly. "It was risky…a risk you didn't have to take. Thank you."

Daryl just shrugged, no doubt thinking about the expedition he and Rosita had made back to the overturned Dodge that afternoon. Completely engrossed in Carl, Rick hadn't even noticed their absence, hadn't even given thought to the fact that not only had he left all of his weapons behind, all three bags containing the listening devices were in that car. As soon as they realised, Daryl had insisted on returning. There was less attention to their presence this time, given that the commotion attracting the Walkers was over and done with. It had taken half an hour, but miraculously they had managed to retrieve almost everything that had been left behind, clearing out the Dodge and cramming all of it into Aaron's small sedan. Rick's weapons had been returned to him, as had Carl's duty belt and all of their spare gasoline.

"It's all righ'," Daryl commented roughly. "Besides…Carl left his hat there…could you imagine the whinging if he lost that?"

Rick smiled and nodded, remembering how pleased Carl had been to be reunited with his Sheriff's hat.

"You know, Rick…" Daryl started, smirking a little. "There's no use in packing those bugs in three separa' bags, if you're only gonna stick 'em in one car…"

Chastised, Rick nodded in agreement.

"How tha' happen?"

Groaning to himself, Rick looked at the ground and kicked the dirt. "I had Carrie pack the car today…I didn't think."

"Nah, nah, you were thinkin'. Yah just weren't thinkin' right," Daryl grinned.

"Sorry?"

"It's her…she's making all the blood up 'ere," he continued, pointing to his head. "Go rushin' down 'ere," he concluded, pointing to the front of his jeans.

"Daryl," Rick started in annoyance. God, had it really only been that morning that he resolved himself to having a stupid crush on her?

"I'm just sayin', ain't your fault…blame biology or somethin'."

"Daryl…"

"Go on…admit it," he encouraged. "You were thinkin'…just not with the right body part."

Sighing, Rick looked around the group, his eyes falling on Carrie who was unrolling her sleeping bag. It was his fault the listening devices had all been packed into the one car, despite their earlier plans to keep them separate. Not concentrating, he had told her to pack them anywhere, completely forgetting about anything else. Annoyance lingered, not towards Daryl's insight, but towards himself. What kind of person developed a crush on a woman they had known three days?

"Alright…I'll admit to thinking with the wrong body part," Rick began quietly, completely throwing away all dignity. "But it was just momentary, alright?"

"Momentary, huh," Daryl scoffed. "So you do got the hots for her?"

Rick rolled his eyes at this. "What, are we fifteen?"

"Could be…"

"It's just attraction, that's all," Rick insisted. "It's purely…."

He trailed off uncertainly. He was about to say that his attraction was purely physical, that just like everyone else, he found Carrie good looking…beautiful, even. But it was a lie…he knew that. Even now, as she unrolled her sleeping bag beside Michonne's, heavy bags under her eyes and cuts on her face, Rick wanted to go over there to her…wanted to sit beside her and strike up conversation. Once they got over the awkwardness of their mistrust, talking to Carrie was easy. Last night and that day, Rick had been forced to hold himself back from telling her everything there was to know about himself, feeling strangely loquacious for the first time in his life. It was a strange turn of events. Hadn't Lori always told him he didn't talk enough?

"Look," he began uncertainly, hoping he managed to explain himself properly. "Daryl…don't make this a big deal. Please."

"Why's that?" he asked, getting rid of his smirk when he realised Rick was serious.

Shifting uncomfortably, Rick tried to think…but how could he possibly articulate everything that was going on inside his head? "It's just…it's going to blow over, okay? I want it to."

Daryl grunted, prompting him to continue.

"I don't want anything from her…even though part of me thinks it might," he concluded awkwardly, glancing over at her again.

"'Cos o' Lori?"

He nodded. "Yeah, because of Lori."

"Man…she's been gone almos' a year now…a year these days is like ten normal years."

"I know…"

"Alright," Daryl nodded, his version of an apology. "I won't make a big deal of it."

"Thank you…and next time you and Glenn are gossiping, tell him too."

"Yeah, I will."

There was an awkward silence, Rick looking over to the minivan to check on Carl. He still lay there asleep, his leg comfortably propped up on pillows.

"Look…This is the last I'm gon' say of it," Daryl began quietly, sounding apologetic. "But there's no shame in it, man…"

"I never said there was," Rick countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean…no one's gon' judge you for wanting another woman…"

"Not even Carl?" he questioned, knowing he was putting Daryl on the spot. "He won't judge me for wanting another woman?"

"Alrigh', I'll give you that, he probably won' be pleased," Daryl admitted, stomping his cigarette into the ground. "But what you gonna do? Put your whole life on hold for him? Never do anythin' for yourself?"

Considering this, Rick glanced back at the minivan again. "If I need to," he said, the answer coming to him with great ease.

Daryl looked at him long and hard, finally giving a short nod. "Alrigh'…well that's the last I'll talk of it."

"Thank you," Rick said, preparing to head back to Carl. He stopped himself at the last minute, feeling the need to say something else. "And Daryl…thank you."

Leaving it at that, Rick returned to his son, giving short nods to everyone else as he passed them by. Though he knew he owed Carrie a great deal of gratitude, knowing how she had tried to protect Carl when he couldn't, Rick didn't let himself meet her eye. He would talk to her tomorrow, would thank her properly for what she had done. Tonight though, Daryl's words ran a little too true for him to face her just yet. He was attracted to her, and he had likely been thinking with the wrong body part that morning when he told her to put the packs in any car.

Pleased he didn't have to take another night on watch, he took a pillow and blanket from the removal truck, saying a quick goodnight to everyone still awake. Kicking his boots off, he resumed his place on the floor of the minivan, adjusting the pillow behind his back. Situating himself, he rested his elbow on the seat by Carl's head, his fingers reaching down to stroke his hair affectionately. Weary, he put his head back and closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep. The very moment he found the most comfortable position, he felt Carl stirring.

"Dad?" he said groggily, rubbing his eyes as he twisted around to see him.

"I'm here," he said quietly.

Carl sighed, finding his bottle of water and taking a sip. "I want to get up…I gotta take a leak."

Rolling his eyes, Rick echoed his sigh. "You had to wait until I got comfortable, didn't you?"

Laughing a little, he apologised. "Sorry."

Silencing his groan of annoyance, Rick sat up and looked at Carl's leg. He pictured it bleeding again, the delicate injury disturbed as he got up. "I'll get you something."

"No" Carl protested, beginning to sit up. "I can get up."

Rick shook his head, wanting him to rest. "You shouldn't…you should rest."

"I'm not peeing into a bottle," he shuddered. "I can get up."

"It's not the first time you've peed into a bottle when you were injured," Rick argued, continuing when Carl looked at him in confusion. "When you first got shot…you were bedridden for a week."

"Yeah, I know," he said in embarrassment. "But I was a kid then…I'm getting up."

Remembering he got his stubbornness from Lori, and no doubt from him too, Rick reluctantly helped Carl sit. Pulling aside the blankets, he found Carl's shoes and slipped them onto his feet, securely tying the laces so that he wouldn't trip. Moving very slowly, Carl shuffled to the door of the car, groaning in frustration when Rick offered to carry him.

"Dad, no," he grumbled, brushing his hand away. "I can walk."

Seconds later Abraham was by his side, helping Carl to his feet and ignoring any protests he made.

"You'll do as you're told," Abraham told him gruffly, knowing Carl would listen to him without question. "Now let your father help you."

Pulling Carl's arm around his shoulder, Rick bent slightly and helped Carl bear only a small amount of his weight on his left leg, wishing his son wasn't too proud to be carried. He watched the expression on his face, hating each flash of pain that crossed it. They moved slowly, Abraham hovering behind them as they made their way around the cars and into the darkness where Carl could relieve himself.

"When does it hurt?" Abraham enquired in concern. "When you put weight on it, or when you move it?"

"Both," Carl ground out, gritting his teeth until they finally stopped. Letting Carl stand for a moment, Rick kept hold of his elbow, not wanting to leave him. "Dad…"

"Mmm?"

"Could I have some privacy?" he asked in annoyance.

Rick hesitated. "You've peed in front of me a thousand times."

"Dad…"

Sighing, Rick slowly let go of his arm and stepped back to stand with Abraham. "Don't fall over," he said, feeling that by saying it he might be able to prevent it. There was only silence, and after sharing a glance Rick and Abraham stepped back a few more feet. Finally content, Carl went about his business, Rick never taking his eyes off his dark form as they waited. When he was done they helped him back to the car, only feeling relief when he was seated and off his leg once again.

"Let me check the wounds," Abraham insisted, having Rick shine the flashlight. Having applied pressure to the injury for over an hour, Abraham was understandably concerned with ensuring there was no extra bleeding. "Not too much blood…not too much swelling. I'd say you're God damned lucky, kid."

Rick laughed shortly. "I have to disagree."

"Yeah," Carl echoed his laugh, swallowing heavily. "This is the second time I've been shot…"

"By friendly fire, no less."

"Hey, Dad…we've both been shot twice now. I caught up to you."

"You've both been shot twice?" Abraham questioned.

"Yeah," Carl nodded, lifting his shirt and showing him the scar on his stomach. "Dad got shot in the back, and then I got shot in the stomach. Then he got shot in the leg, and now so have I."

"Doesn't bode well," Abraham grunted, starting to leave.

"Hey, Abe," Carl began. "Thank you for helping me today…and sorry I kicked you. You were only trying to help…"

Abraham nodded, putting his hand on his hips. "That's alright," he said gruffly. He looked down at the ground, frowning. "Sorry for dropping the F - bomb when you did it…and the C - bomb."

Carl grinned, no doubt amused. "Thanks for teaching me a new swear word."

Grimacing, Rick closed his eyes. "You kicked him?" he asked when Abraham was gone

"By accident. It was when he was trying to look at my leg…before you got there."

"And what was this word he taught you?"

Carl hesitated. "I can't repeat it…if I said it, I'd owe you a dollar."

"Not a quarter?"

"No. This one's definitely worth a dollar." Shifting a little, Carl looked up at the ceiling with a long sigh. "He's really good at combining swear words, isn't he…you know, like Mother Fu-"

"Don't," Rick warned him. "You want to know the difference between you and me getting shot?"

This piqued Carl's interest. "Yeah."

"Both times I got shot, people intended to shoot me. You only got shot by accident."

In the dim moonlight, Rick caught a smile from his son. "That's because people like me more than you."

Shaking his head to himself, he stroked his hand over Carl's hair, leaning down and kissing the crown of his head. He never let him do that any more, protesting he was far too old, but Rick took the opportunity when it was presented to him. "Go to sleep."

"You know it's true."

"Go to sleep," he repeated sternly, getting comfortable again.

It wasn't long before Carl's breaths evened out, soft puffs of air audible in the silent night. Though he was exhausted, Rick struggled to fall asleep, his mind too active with worry. He rested his eyes but did not slip away, unable to let his guard down again.

* * *

The moment Nicholas whispered her name, Carrie awoke with a start, her eyes bursting open. It took her a moment to remember where she was, to recall that she had agreed to take a shift on watch that night, and for a moment she lay there frozen. Seconds later Nicholas disappeared, wearily making his way to his own sleeping bag and collapsing down to sleep. As the mental process of her chore began to sink in, her sleepiness disappeared and she sat up to stretch, waking herself up properly. This was not the first time she had ever been awoken in the middle of the night to take over watch, but it had been many months since she had handled such a responsibility. Being on her own meant she slept unprotected, with no one to watch for Biters and keep her safe.

Getting to her feet, she laced up her boots and slipped Rick's jacket on, reminding herself to find one of her own at the first opportunity. Winter clothing was difficult to come by, given that the outbreak had occurred in the early summer, and she felt bad that she was wearing Rick's only jacket. But he refused to take it back from her, at least until she had one of her own. Zipping it up, she grabbed her canteen of water and looked around, trying to find her watch companion. Daryl was awake now, standing in his designated smoking spot by one of the cars. He nodded at her in greeting, taking a long draw from his cigarette as he checked the ammunition in his rifle.

"How you feelin'?" he asked when she came over, keeping his voice low.

"A bit sore," she admitted, rubbing her collarbone. Aside from the nasty bump on her head and a few cuts and bruises, the long bruise that ran across her chest was the only injury giving her trouble. Given how uncomfortable the seatbelt had left her, she hated to think of how much Carl must be hurting, given that he was suspended by his for quite a few minutes. At this thought she looked over to the minivan, where Carl and Rick were spending the night. The sliding door was left open, giving Carrie a clear view to the two sleeping inside. Carl slept comfortably, his leg propped up and a warm blanket tucked around him, while Rick appeared to be awake. He sat on the floor of the back seat, his elbow resting by Carl's pillow to prop up his head.

"Is he alright?" Carrie asked in concern. Rick had hardly spent more than a few moments away from Carl that evening, always hovering close by. Even when Rosita had taken him aside to pull fragments of glass from his arms and face while his blood drained into a jar ready for transfusion, Rick showed little concern for his own injuries.

Daryl grunted in answer, grinding the cigarette butt into the ground. "He's fine," he dismissed. "You sure you're up for taking watch?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It's been a while, but I'll be fine."

He didn't fuss or question her any further, just jerked his head in the direction of Aaron's sedan. "You take that one…I'll help yah up."

Allowing him to help her, she climbed onto the roof of the car and sat down, taking the flood light and binoculars when he passed them up to her. Seconds later he was also situated, taking his place on top of the flatbed and shining his own flood light around. Taking his lead, Carrie did the same, carefully scanning the sports field and finding no threat. They turned off the flood lights and settled in for the remainder of the night, Carrie mentally preparing herself for the long wait until morning.

Tucking her hands into the pockets of the jacket, she turned her back on the group and looked out into the darkness, straining her ears to hear an approaching threat. There was only peaceful silence, coupled with the serene moon that cast light on the small town around them. The others had taken a quick drive around when they had first set up camp, looking for trouble, and having found none they returned with good, but cautionary news. They had found the petrol station where they would go in the morning, knowing that most of the cars would have been siphoned months ago. Between Aaron and Rick's group, who knew these areas well, they generally knew where they could find abundant sources of fuel and safe places to stay. However they hadn't planned on passing through this particular town, and so were crossing their fingers that they found what they needed.

Despite the tediousness of the task, Carrie was pleased to be on watch that night. She had been genuinely surprised when her offer to take the second shift had been accepted, knowing that they hadn't quite accepted her as part of their group, that she was worthy and capable of protecting them. Either they were all exhausted, or Carrie had been doing something right, for her offer had been enthusiastically supported. Even though she still hadn't been given a weapon to use, her spotlight and binoculars dangerously ineffective against Biters, she felt it was a step in the right direction. Remembering what had happened that day, Carrie began to reassure herself. She was definitely becoming a part of this group…perhaps it would be slow and awkward, but they were accepting her.

Thinking back to the car accident, she remembered the fear she had felt when everyone who had come to help had suddenly disappeared, carrying Carl to safety. The next few moments passed agonisingly slowly, and it occurred to her that they might leave without her. It would have made sense after all, one of their own had been shot, a child no less. She would have been okay, really…all she had to do was untangle her foot from the seat belt and she would have been free. Then she would have wasted no time in covering herself in Biter guts before laying low with the dead Biters. She would have scavenged the supplies that had been left behind, and then made another go of surviving on foot.

In seconds she had formulated her entire escape, mentally preparing to dig her hands into the first dead Biter she saw, but then she had seen Rick. After making sure his son reached the minivan, he had come back for her, displaying no doubt in his eyes for what he was doing. He had untangled her foot and then helped her to the car, the others joining them a moment later. They could have left her behind…she would have understood…but they hadn't.

Hours later, and Carrie was still in disbelief. She had never even been in a fender bender, let alone an accident that resulted in the car upside down. Her memories of the experience had been fuzzy at first, but had been clearing up in the hours since. Now remembering them with great clarity, the replayed in her mind the exact moment they hit the large deer that appeared out of nowhere, the way the car swerved out of Glenn's control and turned on it's side. It would have been graceful to watch, the car's fall onto it's side happening so slowly Carrie had expected it to correct itself. But once the dust had settled on the accident, the scariest thing wasn't the knowledge that they had crashed, or that the rest of their group were carrying on ahead without knowledge…it was the awful sound of Carl screaming for his dad.

Unlike the rest of them, Rick had been knocked unconscious by the force of the turn over, his position as front seat passenger meaning he bore the brunt of the impact. Shivering, she pictured Carl suspended in the air, twisting around so that his feet could reach Rick's arm. When he didn't rouse straight away, Carl had begun kicking him, screaming at him to wake up even as Glenn told him to be quiet. In the end it had been the rough blows to his face that finally roused Rick, Carl crying in relief when he began moving.

She wondered if Rick was going to take it easy the next day. Even though they were heading to the prison where he had come from, which they would need to completely clear of Biters, he had hit his head hard enough to knock himself out. Aside from that, Carl had put a decent bit of force behind his kicks…Rick was sure to have a pounding headache. Would he be up for the challenge of clearing out a prison full of Biters? Smiling to herself, she knew it wasn't likely that he would sit out the task. She knew leaders like him…he wouldn't send people in to do a job he felt was also his. She too had been the same.

A few hours later she heard low sounds coming from behind her, and looked around quickly. Breathing a sigh of relief, she noticed that the interior light in the minivan had been turned on, shadows moving about inside. Rick emerged, putting Carl's shoes on for him and lacing them up tightly. Letting Carl slowly emerge, Rick turned around and looked for the people on watch, frowning in surprise when he saw her atop the sedan. He gave her a short nod of acknowledgement, and then pointed behind the minivan, indicating their intentions. Understanding, Carrie got to her feet and turned on the flood light, checking out the immediate area. She was strangely pleased that he had asked her to do this, not Daryl, taking it as another indication that his trust had grown. Giving him a short nod, she turned off the flood light and watched for a moment as Rick put his arm around Carl's waist. The teenager looked like he was in pain, bearing all of his weight onto his father as they made their way into the darkness.

They were gone for some time, and just as she saw Daryl craning his neck in worry, they returned. Rick was carrying Carl now, setting him down by the door to the minivan ever so gently. They stood there for a moment, Carl taking a few deep breaths as he took the opportunity to stand. She was close enough that she could see Carl's face shining with sweat, his hands shaking a little as he began to hunch over. His shoulders heaved as he puked onto the grass, Rick holding him upright with obvious concern on his face. In a motion that every parent knew well, he pressed the back of his hand to Carl's forehead, feeling for a fever.

Seeing the commotion, Daryl leant down over the front of the flatbed cabin and peered in through the windscreen. Abraham and Rosita were asleep inside, and so he tapped on the glass to wake them up, requesting his assistance. Turning back to Carl, Carrie watched in concern as he took a small sip of water and then spat it out, still standing with his body hunched over. Rick rubbed his back as they waited for Abraham, probably more to reassure himself than Carl. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Abraham quickly saw to Carl, slapping a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm as Rosita began inspecting his leg.

"There's no bleeding," she said quietly, her voice only just audible to Carrie. "The swelling is the same, too."

"Hmmm…" Abraham mused, pumping up the cuff. "Carl, what's the date?"

Carl looked up at him incredulously. "I don't know…do you?"

"No," he admitted. "Do you feel confused? Disoriented?"

"Just faint…dizzy."

"Well lie down, your blood pressure is low," Abraham told him, releasing the cuff from his arm. "How's the pain?"

"Fucking awful," Carl groaned, starting to move back inside the minivan. "Sorry, Dad…"

"It's alright," Rick muttered, helping Carl sit inside. "Does he need more blood?" he asked, coming to stand outside and leaving Rosita to sit by Carl.

"I don't know," Abraham said uncertainly, looking back at their medical kit. "Maybe just fluids…he hasn't lost any more blood as far as we can tell. He's going to need a cannula…" he trailed off, looking around at the sleeping figures. "Where's Aidan?"

"Went for a walk," Daryl supplied. "'Bout ten minutes ago."

"It's five o'clock in the morning," Rick said in annoyance. "Why didn't you stop him?"

Daryl sighed. "He's takin' a shit."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rick glanced into the minivan, hearing Carl retching. "Wake Nicholas up, tell him to go find Aidan…Abe, can't you do a cannula?"

Abraham hesitated and then shook his head, raising his large hands. "I can try, but these paws are not designed for delicate work. I'd only tear up his veins."

"Rosita, has Pete shown you-"

"I can do it," Carrie interrupted. She felt her cheeks go pink as they all turned to look at her, surprised by what she had said. "Just a cannula, right?"

Rick looked at her in disbelief. He tilted his head, scrutinising her in confusion. "You never mentioned medical training."

She hastily explained. "An aged care nurse in my first group taught me how."

Her answer was greeted by silence, everyone still looking at her incredulously. The silence was suddenly broken by Carl, puking again. The sound breaking him from his thoughts, Rick turned and looked in concern. He appeared hesitant, not that Carrie could blame him. Finally he got Carl's attention, and began talking to him quietly.

"It could be shock," Abraham said to her, clearly uncertain about what to do. "What do you think?"

Carrie shrugged apologetically. "If it's more than a cannula and attaching an IV, I don't really know…sorry."

"Right," he nodded, crossing his arms. "Mother dick…"

Carrie restrained the burst of nervous laughter she wanted to emit, knowing it wouldn't be well received. Rick turned back around and nodded his consent to her, stepping aside as Rosita emerged. Looking slightly green, she carried the bucket of puke far away and emptied it. Not wasting time, Abraham helped Carrie down off the car and showed her to the generously stocked medical kit, taking out a bag of clear fluid and turning on the camp stove.

"Rick, get her what she needs," he instructed. Setting a pot of water over the stove, he set the bag of fluid into the water, slowly beginning to warm it up.

Reminding herself that the situation wasn't urgent, Carrie took a few deep breaths before taking a bottle of hand sanitiser, rubbing it over her hands and wrists as she mentally took herself through the process. She had picked up the skill quickly when Debra in her first group had shown her, wanting to share her medical knowledge with as many people as she could. Having abundant medical supplies stolen from a refugee camp in Atlanta before they left, they had practiced on each other frequently. Debra had died a few weeks later, further highlighting the need to teach one another the basics. Despite the long length of time since Carrie had done this, the process came back to her easily, her confidence growing as Rick helped her slip her hands into a pair of rubber gloves.

"Erm…alcohol wipes, tourniquet, tape and the cannula…I'll need the flashlight too."

Getting the things they needed, Rick climbed into the minivan and told Carl to move over a little, making room for Carrie to take a seat. Carl lay on the bench seat as Carrie climbed in and sat by his knees, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Even in the dim light, she could see he looked pale and sweaty. Just as the thought occurred to her, Rick took Carl's wrist and pressed his finger tips to the inside, feeling his pulse. He pressed his lips into a thin line, looking outside where Abraham hovered.

"Someone get Aidan," he requested again. "Please."

"Didn't you work in advertising?" Carl enquired, looking at her gloved hands.

Nodding, she explained. "Someone in my first group taught me a few things."

"So…how many times have you done this?" he questioned in worry.

"Plenty," she promised, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's like riding a bike." Prepared, she removed the cannula from the plastic packaging and took the cap off the needle, seeing Carl's eyes widen as he saw it.

"Don't look at it," Rick said told him, making him turn away.

"Do you think Pete will teach me some medical things?" Carl asked trying to distract himself. His voice grew strained, and he swallowed heavily.

"He will if you ask him to," Rick replied. "But you're not quitting school."

Carrie hesitated, the mention of school taking her by surprise. Carl went to school? Unfortunately, Carl misunderstood her hesitation, and flinched his arm away before she even got close.

"Chill out. I got this," she lied, trying to reassure him. Don't be nervous…don't be nervous.

"You have to get it first go," Carl challenged. "Aaron got it first go."

"He took two tries to get my vein. I win." Rick teased, wiping the sweat off Carl' brow with a damp cloth.

Pressing on the chosen vein, Carrie prepared to insert the cannula, but Carl suddenly jerked away. "I'm going to puke again."

"No, you're not," Carrie said sternly. She took a deep breath, knowing that if Carl puked in front of her, she would probably do the same. Even the smell that already lingered in the air was making her stomach clench. "Wait…just wait."

He groaned again, stretching out his arm for her. Taking her time, she tried to warm up his skin, pressing the vein to make it bulge. Carl had the type of nice, robust veins that were easily to cannulate…must be a kid thing. Sharing a quick glance with Rick, who held the flashlight steady, Carrie took a chance and pierced the crook of Carl's elbow. A tense moment passed before blood seeped inside the needle, signalling luck as opposed to skill.

"First go," she declared in relief, removing the tourniquet and taping the needle into place. "See?"

"Thanks," Carl muttered, closing his eyes and releasing a long breath. "I got shot today, Dad…I win."

"Fine," Rick rolled his eyes. "You win."

"What's my prize?"

"Glory."

"Oh," he sighed, his features clenching. "Dad…I really am going to puke…"

Hearing this, Carrie made a hasty retreat, exiting the car as Rosita passed the bucket back inside. She made it out just in time, Carl puking a third time and then coughing harshly. Glad that her job was over and done with, Carrie pulled the gloves off and threw them into the plastic bag that acted as their trash bin before looking around. Rosita hovered nearby, pacing nervously until Rick passed her the bucket full of puke to empty. Though repulsed by her task, it was clear Rosita was glad she had something to do, but Carrie didn't envy her. They waited impatiently, none of them sure of what to do next. Until Abraham returned, hopefully with Aidan, no one knew what to do for Carl, and so they were forced to wait.

A few minutes later, Daryl gave a low whistle, indicating that someone was approaching. "It's them," he said, looking to Rick who had come to stand outside the car.

Impatient, Rick nodded his head and slipped back into the car, quietly reassuring Carl. Moments later Abraham and Aaron emerged from the darkness, both of them looking tense and worried. Brushing past her, Aidan went straight to the minivan and looked in at Carl, shining the flashlight on his face.

"You took his blood pressure?" he asked, turning back to Abraham.

"About ten minutes ago…ninety over fifty five."

"Get me the cuff again. The stethoscope too," he added, gesturing to Rick to step out. Taking the equipment, he fumbled with the cords and cuff, doing his best to act quickly. Puffing up the cuff with one hand, he put the earpieces of the stethoscope in and listened to Carl's heart beat. "You woke up feeling sick? Are you confused?…Just dizzy?"

Releasing the blood pressure cuff and removing the stethoscope, Aidan requested the flashlight as he took a look at Carl's leg for himself. Though there had not been any more bleeding or swelling than a few hours ago, Aidan still looked worried. He scrutinised Carl closely, shining the flashlight on his face and then pinching his lower lip. He gave him a quick nod and then departed, going straight for the medical kit.

"What do you think it is?" Rick asked quietly, following him over.

Taking a blue display folder, Aidan began flicking through the pages. He looked up at Rick, tapping his foot as he thought. "His blood pressure is very low, and his heart's racing to compensate," he muttered, consulting one of the pages. "I think we should give him more blood."

Rick nodded, already pulling his sleeve up. "Carrie," he said, gesturing to his arm.

She nodded, but on the inside she groaned. She had been lucky to get Carl's cannula inserted with ease…it was unlikely she would achieve the same results the second time around. Taking a deep breath, she joined them at the medical kit, getting more of the things she needed. Her eyes widened when she took in the sheer volume of supplies there…bandages and dressings, cords and apparatus of various types, and more than a dozen bags of IV fluids…medicine containers and vials…where on earth had they found all of this?

"He hasn't lost any more blood," Abraham argued as he helped Carrie. "Shouldn't we give him fluids?"

Aidan shook his head, still looking through the folder. Carrie stole a quick glance at it, seeing that the pages contained extensive hand written notes and diagrams. They were instructions…medical instructions.

"He's sweating, and his mouth is wet. He's not dehydrated," Aidan argued. "He's showing symptoms of shock."

"But he came good after the transfusion," Abraham continued. "He seemed okay."

"Look…low blood pressure, rapid pulse…he's sweaty, and cold. Look at his lips…we didn't recover the blood volume enough," Aidan argued with certainty, showing Abraham one of the pages. "See? We'll get some blood into him, and then some fluids. Wake up Tobin, we'll need him too."

Going through the same process as before, Carrie slipped the tourniquet around Rick's arm and pulled it tightly, rubbing the crook of his elbow to warm up the blood vessels. Not paying attention to her, he craned his neck and looked into the car, seeing Rosita sitting with Carl now.

"You should sit down," she said, trying to lead him towards the driver's seat.

"No, it's okay. Go ahead."

"Alright…" she said reluctantly. "Can you shine the flashlight?"

Cleaning the skin with the alcohol wipe, Carrie opened the next cannula and prepared to insert it, choosing the vein to try. It took her three clumsy attempts to properly penetrate the tiny vessel, and she apologised profusely each time, feeling his flinches. Releasing the tourniquet, she taped the cannula down as Aidan flipped through the large folder, a frown on his brow. He turned to the medical kit and took something out.

"Rick," he began, showing him a long tube with an orange cap. "It's an Epi-Pen…Pete's notes says the epinephrine will help raise blood pressure."

Rick frowned, looking at him expectantly. It seemed to take him a moment to realise that Aidan was asking for his permission. "You've worked with Pete," he said plainly. "If this is what you think you should do, then do it."

"Who's Pete?" Carrie enquired softly, watching as Aidan climbed into the back of the minivan and explained to Carl what he was going to do. Around them, everyone was beginning to rouse from their slumber, realising something was wrong.

"A doctor back at our camp…surgeon," he answered, looking around. "Abraham? Carrie's done."

She hastily stepped aside as Abraham came over, quickly attaching a long clear tube into the cannula in Rick's elbow. Watching in fascination, she observed the long line of red as blood filled the tube, slowly draining into a jar just as it had that afternoon. It was strange to see a group of people who seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and it was slightly intimidating. Whoever this Pete was, he had trained them well. Giving everyone some space, she peeled off the gloves and began to step back, watching and listening as Aidan pressed the Epi Pen into Carl's thigh. Carl swore in discomfort, muttering something unintelligible.

Aidan raised his eyebrows, a smirk crossing his face. "Woah, Carl…they're tough words for a kid with a hole in his leg."

"You're not funny," he groaned, clenching his teeth until Aidan finally removed the needle a few moments later. "You enjoyed that…"

"Only a tiny bit," he grinned, his charm making it easier on Carl, giving him something to laugh at.

Resuming her place on top of the sedan, Carrie tried to concentrate on keeping watch, knowing that the increased activity might attract Walkers. Already Daryl had taken out seven of them on their watch, the sound from the rifle echoing despite the silencer in use. Still, despite the sound it was easier than taking them on by hand in the middle of the night.

Thankfully morning came sooner rather than later, the rising sun putting them at ease now they could better see their surroundings. When Rosita swapped places with her, Carrie jumped down and began helping herself to some breakfast, glancing into the minivan as she dropped a tea bag into a mug. It hadn't taken long for Carl to start perking up, the epinephrine raising his blood pressure as the transfusion began a short time later. Though he hadn't sat up, his cheeks were already looking pink rather than grey, no doubt a promising start.

Tobin had joined Rick in the front of the minivan, the two of them donating blood just as they had the previous day. As Michonne fussed over Carl the rest of the group relaxed a little, reassured that he was going to be alright. Quickly setting about their preparations for the day, they opened a tin of sliced peaches and packet of old Pop Tarts, distributing them and making sure Rick and Tobin received extra portions. Even Carl managed to eat a little, coaxed into a few bites by a deal for Michonne's Kit Kat.

Not ever wasting time, Daryl, Glenn and Nicholas took one of the cars and checked out the town, keeping track of where the Walkers were and making sure they would be safe at their gas station of choice. As they waited for them to return, the others packed up their camp and prepared to depart, hoping to get an early start.

"Can you take this to them, please," Aaron requested, handing Carrie the last of the Pop Tarts and two juice boxes.

She didn't need to clarify which members of their group needed extra rations. Doing as requested, Carrie headed over to the minivan and gave Tobin the choice between two flavours.

"Rick?" he started, looking over his shoulder. "Apple Blackcurrant, or Orange and Mango?"

There was a short pause before Rick answered. "Lady's choice," he quipped, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it.

Taking his choice of juice box and a cookie, Tobin thanked her kindly. Heading around the other side of the minivan, she looked into the backseat where Rick was situated. Carl was sleeping now, using his father's thigh as a pillow. Rick's arm was extended uncomfortably, his blood still draining at a painfully slow rate. From the light of the morning sun, Carrie could see that while his face was pale, his cheeks were tear stained and his expression downcast. He didn't bother trying to hide it, not fixing a fake smile that no one would believe.

"You need anything else?" she offered, passing him the last Pop Tart and juice box.

He shook his head. "No, thank you," he said, taking the items from her.

Nodding, she started to turn away.

"Have you done that a lot?" he enquired, his question making her turn back. "Cannulas, I mean."

"Some," she shrugged, recalling a few instances. She didn't mention that the people she had cannulated before this had died from their injuries.

"You should…" he began softly, glancing down at Carl. "You should do some training with Pete…when we get back to our camp."

She smiled at this, noting that this was the first time anyone had actually referred to her joining their camp.

"You'd be good at it," he added.

"Thanks," she said, lingering a moment. "Maybe I will."

Leaving it at that, Carrie gave him a soft smile before heading back to the others. She didn't know whether or not God was listening, or whether or not she actually believed in him, but she thanked him anyway. Yesterday could have gone a whole lot worse, even without Carl getting shot. Though it had been awful, every member of her new group was alive.

Including her.


	10. Chapter 10

The following morning greeted them with warm sunshine and Walkers, a combination they were well used to these days. The presence of the shuffling corpses was a mere nuisance, something that interfered with their hasty departure from the sports field. Thanks to an earlier drive around the town, the group was confident that there weren't going to be any major surprises, and so were at relative ease when they loaded the cars and set off for the gas station to prepare for another day of driving.

Sighing, Rick checked his watch and saw that it was fast approaching eight o'clock in the morning. As he knew it would, his impatience to reach the prison had returned, especially given how unwell Carl had become overnight. The thought of securing a place where Carl could recover within four safe walls increased the urgency of his desire to get on the road. Nevertheless he had no choice but to wait. Manually pumping gas out of an underground tank was a task of long duration. Given that they needed enough to fill a large truck, two cars and dozens of spare gas containers, Rick was quietly surprised by how quickly it was going. They had been there for an hour now, and they were up to the sedan now. They would be back on the road soon enough. The roads surrounding the prison ought to be clear. Pending drama, they should arrive at the prison two hours after they departed…two and a half at the most.

Turning to Carl, who was awake at the moment, Rick stroked his hair, ignoring the eye roll this gesture earned him. He and Tobin had finished giving blood a little while ago, but Carl was still receiving it, the jar of thick red liquid hanging from the headrest of the seat in front. He was still pale, but no longer sweaty and clammy, and he reported feeling a lot better. Rick mentally kicked himself again, wishing he had requested another transfusion yesterday afternoon. How could they have expected one to be enough? He had seen for himself how much blood Carl had lost…two of their towels had been discarded after being used to stem the flow. How could they have been so negligent?

Looking around the car, Rick cast his eyes over the mess that had been left. Carl's blood was smeared all over the interior of the door and window, large droplets spattered onto the carpet floor. Even with the windows open, the metallic smell of blood lingered in the air, a constant reminder of what had happened. Coming to a decision, Rick double checked that Carl was alright and then left the car. The others were busy pumping gas, and so he quietly went about his work.

Climbing into the removal truck, he swayed as vertigo struck him momentarily, but quickly carried on. He collected a bucket, an old sponge, and some dishwashing detergent before heading to their enormous canteen of water. Making up a soapy solution, he returned to the car and started cleaning up, scrubbing at the dried blood and dabbing the stained carpet. He cleaned as much as he could, knowing there was no use even trying to clean the seats. Moving on, he gave the rest of the interior a wipe over, as though blaming the console for hanging onto the lingering smell of blood. Soon enough the smell of lemon scented detergent filled the car, masking the reminder of Carl's injury.

Giving everything a final once over with a new cloth, Rick glanced at his son who was currently frowning at his fingernails, picking at the dirt underneath them. Carl's injury brought a whole new element to their supply run. He was almost completely immobilised by the gunshot, following Aidan's strict instructions to rest as much as possible. An injury such as Carl's should have required internal stitches…minor surgery at least. Even if they did have a method of anaesthetising him safely, none of them were competent enough to know what they were doing, to investigate the true extent of his injury. The uncertainty of the extent of his injury meant Carl was even more vulnerable. He couldn't protect himself if danger presented.

Rick had planned for him to help in this supply run, not because they needed the extra hands, but because he knew Carl needed to help…he needed to feel strong. Facilitating this for him, Rick had planned to have him by his side every step of this supply run…but now that had to change. Running through the implications of Carl's injury, Rick tried to plan ahead, to figure out who would be protecting Carl while the others were getting supplies.

"Rick," Glenn's voice distracted him. Seeing him up and about, he left the others to come and investigate. "What are you doing?"

Cleaning a spot of blood on the window, Rick looked at Glenn in annoyance. Wasn't it obvious what he was doing? "I'm just cleaning up."

Glenn nodded, and it was clear he was choosing his words very carefully. Perhaps he was concerned for Rick, worried that he would be feeling short tempered. "You need to rest…you've given a lot of blood since yesterday."

"I'm aware of that."

Seeing their discussion, Aidan too approached him, he and Glenn sharing a glance. "You shouldn't be up, Rick. You should be resting. Tobin is…"

Glancing at Carl first, Rick made one last wipe with the sponge before picking up the bucket. Leaving the car, he tipped out the soapy water and headed for the back of the truck. "The sooner we get things done, the sooner we're back on the road."

"Hey," Aidan said, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from climbing up into the truck. "In a few hours we've got a prison to clear."

"Yeah?"

"We're going to need you…you know the layout, the weak spots."

"Sitting it out never crossed my mind."

"Great," Glenn stepped in. "But if you want to fight with us at the prison, you need to take the time to rest."

"I'm fine," he argued, tossing the supplies into the truck haphazardly. "I didn't even give a whole pint today, that's less than a normal donation."

"Yes," Aidan agreed. "But you also gave a pint yesterday, and you've got a head injury. Having you faint halfway through through clearing the prison will put us all in danger."

"I'm not going to-"

"This is not a request, Rick," Aidan said sharply, straightening his shoulders. "If we're not confident that you're well enough, you'll be sitting this out today."

Raising an eyebrow, Rick turned to Glenn for support, glaring when he realised he wasn't going to get it. In a rare occurrence, Aidan and Glenn were in agreement, banding together against him. Letting himself think for a moment, Rick quietly acknowledged that they were right…if they weren't confident in his abilities today, he couldn't expect them to team up with him. If the situations were reversed, and he wasn't confident in Glenn's ability to last, he would make him stay behind. They were right…if he faltered, he would put them all in danger.

He gave a slow nod, accepting that they were right. "What do you want me to do?"

"Eat and drink," Aidan said automatically. "You'll be in the back with Carl today. Sleep the rest of the way to the prison, please."

"Now would be a good time to start," Glenn added. "We've got this covered."

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed, scratching the back of his head as he headed back to the minivan. "I'll get some sleep."

"Thank you," Aidan said gratefully. "Make sure you eat a lot today…I might want to take some more blood after we clear the prison…we'll have to see how Carl is."

Doing as he was told, he accepted one of the candy bars and a sports drink they had found inside the gas station. Resuming his former position, he was glad to see that Carl appeared to be sleeping once again. Taking two Tylenol from the centre console, he took them and then settled himself back against the pillows, trying to get comfortable. Frustration lingered in the back of his mind, Rick knowing he would struggle to fall asleep even before he actually tried. It was too difficult to turn his mind off, to relax long enough.

Opening his eyes again, his gaze straight away stopping at a few brown spots on the ceiling. Somehow blood, most likely Carl's, had managed to find its way to the ceiling of all places, and it lingered there looking down at him…mocking him. It shouldn't surprise him, the droplets most likely cast off from someone's hands…everyone had been smeared with blood yesterday, Abraham in particular…but still, its remaining presence after Rick had so thoroughly cleaned only set his nerves on edge. Distracting himself, he watched the progress being made with the gas, his eyes following one person more than absolutely necessary. Carrie was supervising the gasoline that filled the spare containers, diverting the hose into a new container as the first one filled up.

He needed to thank her, not only for what she had done that morning, inserting Carl's cannula, but for what she had done the previous day. The bravery of her actions were not lost on him. She had cut Carl out of his seat belt, pulling him away from the Walkers that were steadily breaking through his window. When the gunfire had started, she had pulled him underneath her, hoping to protect him from stray bullets with no regard for herself. Though her attempt to protect him hadn't prevented him being shot, her intentions deserved acknowledgement.

She was the only one Rick hadn't thanked yet, and he knew why he hadn't. She was very much a part of their group now. She had even taken a shift on watch the previous night…he shouldn't feel awkward around her. But everything that Daryl and Glenn had said, mainly innocent jests to tease him, rang a little too true. He had a crush on her, that much he had acknowledged, and though he was a grown man, he couldn't help but feel a little awkward…embarrassed. That was why he hadn't thanked her yet. In fact…he had been outright avoiding her all morning.

Christ. He was acting like a teenager.

Fifteen minutes had passed since Aidan and Glenn banished him back to the car. Checking his watch, he suspected they would be leaving soon. Looking at Carl, he anticipated what he would eventually need, especially given that he was receiving another bag of IV fluids.

"Carl?" he gently roused him, stroking his hair again. "Wake up."

"What?" he grunted, opening his eyes with a sigh.

"We'll be going soon. Do you want to go to the bathroom?"

Raising his head, Carl looked towards the gas station. "Is there an actual bathroom?"

"There's a tree."

Accepting that, Carl nodded, letting Rick help him slowly sit up. Knowing how quickly he had grown ill, Carl was more willing to take it easy at the moment, following Rick's instructions when he was told to sit and rest for a moment. Taking the bag of fluids and the jar of blood, Rick slowly helped him shuffle over to the door before helping him stand. Again he made Carl stay and let his body adjust, knowing his blood pressure could fall again now that he was standing. But it appeared to have little effect, Carl patiently waiting until Rick allowed him to start moving.

"Wan' a hand?" Daryl asked. He had been banished from the vicinity of the gas station when he wanted to light his cigarette, but stomped it out and came straight over to help.

"Yeah," Rick thanked him, giving him the bag of fluid and jar of blood.

Frowning, Daryl muttered under his breath as he tried to ensure the cords didn't get tangled, his eyes following them down to the back of Carl's hand and the crook of his elbow. "We got a pin cushion 'ere."

Carl laughed, letting Rick bear the weight of his left leg. "This is nothing…you should have seen Dad when he first came out of surgery after getting shot. He had everything sticking out of him."

"That's lovely Carl, thank you," Rick said sarcastically.

"I didn't even recognise you," he continued. "I walked straight past your bed. Mom had to make me come back."

"Just concentrate on walking."

With Daryl hanging behind them, Rick helped Carl towards a private spot, glad that this time he wasn't so proud he tried to make him go away. He feared what might happen if he let go of Carl's arm, if he stepped away and wasn't there to catch him should he fall. As he waited he looked around the town, surprised by how calm it seemed. Only an hour and a half from the prison, they should have made frequent runs here, but the town sat at the bottom of a few hills, meaning that most of the Walkers who ended up there tended to stay. It was over run the first time Rick had led a group there, and they hadn't even bothered trying to scavenge. He knew Michonne had passed through here on her solo horseback treks, looking for The Governor…it would have been an ideal spot for him to hide out.

However the majority of the Walkers appeared to have moved on, although to where Rick was unsure. Nevertheless they were very lucky that they had made it through the night relatively undisturbed. In the hour since they had been there, the others had taken down around twenty Walkers in the vicinity. A short while ago Daryl had taken the sedan for a quick ride to the opposite side of the town, doing a couple of burn outs and firing a flare to attract them in that direction. It seemed to be working, for they hadn't been disturbed since then.

Once Carl was done, Rick and Daryl helped him back to the car, pleased when he lay down immediately without protesting. Rick hung the fluids and jar of blood from the coat hook on the ceiling and then helped Carl take a drink of water, watching as the others finished up with the gas containers. Soon enough they had filled their last gas container, Aaron closing the lid to the underground tank with a shout of accomplishment. Fully prepared, they distributed the spare gas amongst all the cars, Abraham consulting with everyone and finalising their plans.

"I want at least one original prison resident in each of the cars. You know the area. If things go shit-shaped, you'll take charge and navigate to safety. What's our rendezvous point in the case of emergency?"

"Lindon Creek," a few people answered, dutifully pointing it out on the map.

"Good. Aidan? I want you driving the minivan…you need to stay close to Carl today…now everyone has a medical kit, but Aidan's going to have the main stockpile, just in case. Tobin? You should be riding with Carl too."

Their plans confirmed, everyone began filing towards the cars, pent up energy flowing as they prepared to hit the road again. Keeping track of where everyone was going, Rick took note of who travelled in which car. Glenn took the removal truck with Abraham and Rosita, while Daryl waved Carrie over to the sedan with he, Aaron and Nicholas. Michonne was the last to choose a car, but was clearly pleased to be riding in the minivan with Rick and Carl. As Tobin took the very back seat to stretch out and sleep, Michonne and Aidan took the front. The last to enter their car was Rick, taking one last moment to look around. As the engines started and Aidan whistled impatiently, Rick resumed his place on the floor beside Carl.

Avoiding the two cords attached to his son, Rick settled himself in and arranged his pillows, leaning up against the door. Almost immediately Carl's eyes fluttered closed as he drifted back off to sleep, not noticing Rick who was absently running his fingers through his hair. Their convoy started off, the sedan leading, followed by the minivan and the truck. Trusting that his group knew where to go and what detours to make, Rick listened as voices came over the radio, every car checking the strength of their signal. Content, Rick did as he was told and closed his eyes, placing his hand on top of Carl's and listening to his soft breaths. He remembered that sound from when Carl was a baby, and more recently from Judith. Although it wasn't the best habit to develop, he loved it when Judith fell asleep in his arms, or when he brought her into the bed with him after she awoke at night. The sound of her and Carl's breaths in sync was soothing, and as it often did, the sound finally lulled Rick straight to sleep.

* * *

When Rick awoke next, he was greeted by surroundings that were wonderfully familiar. His head still resting on the seat where he had fallen asleep, but he just happened to open his eyes as the car passed a road sign warning drivers of hitch hikers who may be escaped inmates. Smiling to himself, Rick rubbed his eyes and raised his head, stopping to frown at something that confused him. Where Carl's brown hair should have rested, a pair of muddy sneakers sat instead. A moment of panic seized Rick, and looked up to see that it was Aidan stretched out on the back seat beside him…not Carl.

"Where's Carl?" he demanded, pulling himself up off the floor.

"I called shotgun," Carl's voice came from the front seat. Turning to look into the backseat, Carl smirked at him. "It's about time you woke up."

"Mmm," Rick groaned, glaring at him. Rubbing his eyes for a second time, he yawned as he checked his watch. "Is that really the time? One thirty?"

"It's been a long morning," Michonne sighed, sitting in the driver's seat. "Don't even get me started…"

Pushing Aidan's feet back a little, Rick sat up on the seat and rolled his shoulders, stretching out his muscles as best he could. "What happened?" he dared to enquire.

"Trees are down on the main road," Carl explained, gingerly lifting his left foot up onto the dashboard. "The truck wouldn't fit past, and we didn't want to split up."

"It took us ten minutes just to turn the truck around," Michonne grumbled. "Then we had to double back and try the other roads. Daryl and the others drove ahead of us, and good thing too. They radioed back, said there was bit of a herd lingering on the road, too much for us to get three vehicles through."

"That was another ten minute U-turn for the truck."

"Then Daryl went ahead again, made sure the road was safe, and then told us to come through…and here we are, five hours later."

"I slept through all that?" Rick said in wonder, taking a long drink.

"Yeah," Carl teased, passing him a candy bar. "Aidan wanted you to eat when you woke up."

Doing as he was told, Rick took the candy and opened the wrapper. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," he nodded. "I've still been sleeping most of the morning," he promised.

"Good," he muttered, smiling as they turned down the final road to the prison. "We're nearly there."

They travelled another minute or so before Abraham's voice came down the radio, requesting that they stop to reconvene. Stopping in the middle of the road, they each paused before opening their doors, checking out their immediate surroundings. As he stepped outside, Rick groaned and stretched out his limbs, feeling the discomfort of sleeping in a cramped position for five hours. Enjoying the familiar surroundings, Rick looked around and realised he knew precisely where they were. About five miles from the prison, it would only be a short drive away. Already he could picture the road ahead, remembering every twist, turn and pothole as though he had seen them that morning.

"Hey, Sleepin' Beauty," Daryl drawled, teasing him. "Get enough beauty sleep?"

"Clearly I have," Rick replied, yawning again. He opened Carl's door for him, helping him step out of the car and get to his feet. The blood transfusion had finished, the cord disconnected, but a little of the IV fluid remained, still draining into the back of his hand. "Stay here, alright?"

"No can do, Dad," Carl said, flexing his hands. "I've got a marathon to run."

"Ah, the smart ass returns," Rick rolled his eyes. "Now I know you're fine."

Joining the others who convened at the back of the removal truck, Rick hung back and listened to them talking, letting Abraham take the lead. As he listened, he knew that Aidan had been right to request he sleep. He felt significantly better than he had that morning, unaware of how unwell he really felt. Aside from the bruising he had sustained yesterday, he now felt awake and steady, his head ache having subsided. Letting Abraham recount a well established plan of attack, Rick caught Aidan's eye, indicating he wanted to talk to him.

"What is it?" Aidan asked, the two of them stepping away from the group.

Sighing, Rick glanced at the ground before making his request. "I know I've asked a lot of you, what with Carl and everything-"

"We do what we have to," Aidan replied nonchalantly.

Nodding, Rick agreed with him. "I have to make one more request…will you stay behind with him?"

Aidan pursed his lips, clearly having expected this question.

"I was going to ask Carrie to wait with him," Rick continued, needing to explain. "But with how sick he's been during the night…if he takes another turn for the worse, he needs someone who knows how to help him."

"Yes, I agree," Aidan said, still sounding reluctant. Rick understood what he was thinking. Aidan didn't want to sit back and let his supply run partner go into danger alone.

"Nicholas will be-"

"I'll stay with him," Aidan agreed, cutting him off. "You're right…he needs someone who knows what do to."

"Thank you," Rick said sincerely, clasping Aidan's shoulder. "I appreciate it."

"Let's say you owe me a favour," he added.

Rick faltered, having not expected this. "Okay…"

"Well I mean, helping Carl when he's hurt is a no brainer," Aidan smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "There's no debt there. But staying behind while I let Nicholas walk into a prison full of Walkers….I reckon that's deserving of a favour in return."

Though he dreaded the answer, Rick had to ask. "What's the favour?"

"I don't know," Aidan smiled, folding his arms and looking past Rick's shoulder. Turning around, Rick followed his gaze towards Carrie, who was patiently waiting by the sedan, unsure of her place in today's activities. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Alright…" Rick sighed, reluctant to agree to the favour. "I'll owe you one."

Leaving it at that, Rick returned to the group, watching from the corner of his eye as Glenn helped Carl hobble his way towards the tree line to relieve himself again. His injury required a high level of care at the moment…if he needed to owe Aidan a favour to make sure Carl was in safe hands, then so be it.

"Are you ready?" Abraham asked.

"Yes…I've asked Aidan to stay behind with Carl, just in case he get's sick again."

"Smart move," Abraham agreed. "Well, y'all know what to do. Form your teams and suit up!"

Distributing the riot gear, Abraham supervised everyone as they began to get ready. Waiting until everyone else was done, Rick approached Carrie who still hovered by the sedan, unsure of whether or not she would be allowed to help.

"Do you want to come with us?" he asked her straight out, not messing around. "To clear the prison?"

She looked surprised at this, brushing her blonde hair behind her ears. "You're going to let me?"

"Why not? You've proved you can take down a Walker."

"You'll let me have a weapon?" she questioned.

Grimacing, Rick knew he hadn't been subtle in his initial mistrust of her. "Something more than a children's butter knife, at least."

Smiling, Carrie nodded. "Yeah, I'll go with you."

Considering her, he took note of her absolute certainty, the same certainty she had shown when helping him choose gifts for Carl and Judith. Was she always so sure about things?

"Don't agree to this if you haven't got the nerve," he said, wanting to give her an out. "You gotta be willing to fight for your life if things go wrong, to fight for our lives too."

A flash of annoyance crossed her features. but she quickly covered it up. "I know how to protect a group," she said solidly, Rick noticing her jaw clenching.

Lingering on his decision a moment longer, Rick nodded and then pointed to Abraham. "Go on then…suit up."

Following her over, he grabbed a set of riot gear and took it over to Carl. Explaining the plan to him, he helped him climb up into the cabin of the removal truck, Carl situating himself on the edge of the seat with his feet dangling in the air. Rick passed up the riot gear and one of the radios with a new battery, making him promise to call for any reason at all.

"Hurry up, Dad," Carl told him, checking out his own gear. He slipped the helmet on, checking himself out in the side mirror. "You're going to be the last one ready."

Returning to the rest of them, Rick started distributing radios and the earpieces he had taken from the police station, plugging them in and helping the others situate the long cords underneath their clothing.

"We can talk to each other at any time," he said, using a little tape to fix the cord to the side of Tobin's neck. "We don't need to worry about the sound alerting walkers. This is the microphone here…you'll need to lean into your collar when you talk, otherwise we won't hear you."

"Nicholas, you need gloves…Carrie too," Abraham called out.

Taking the gloves Abraham offered, Rick checked that they had the rubber grip finger pads that would be best for Carrie. He helped her put them on and try them for size, fixing the velcro straps for her. Checking her over for any weak spots in her clothing, he used the duct tape to fix the hem of her jeans to her boots. As he leant down he noticed a gun holster tightly secured above her thigh, glad that someone else had thought to arm her. Glancing at the firearm, he approved of her choice of weapon.

"Did you get a spare magazine?" he asked in concern, taking note of the hunting knife and machete hanging from her belt.

"Glenn gave me three," she answered, touching her pockets. "I don't think I'll use them."

"You will if you have to," he said firmly, remembering a previous conversation. She had claimed to be a poor shot…she had also confessed to accidentally shooting one of her group during a fight with Walkers. He would have to keep an eye on her today, to ensure that her lack of confidence didn't result in a death.

Not wanting to argue with him, she just nodded. "This is…different," she commented now, beginning to tie her hair back. She suddenly laughed, looking around at everyone. "We look like little martians."

"Little martians who won't be scratched by Walkers," he commented, he too smiling as he looked at everyone else. They looked ridiculous covered head to toe in police riot gear, silver stripes of duct tape keeping their clothing secure. Making her take off the chest guard, he handed Carrie one of the shirts Natalie Miller had sewn for them. "Put this on. The sleeves are padded, so Walker's will have a harder time biting through them."

"Like I said…this is different," she muttered.

Without preamble, she lifted her own shirt over her head and dropped it to the ground, slipping her arms into the one passed to her. Rick's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth gaping a little until he forced himself to look somewhere else. Busying himself by finding the end of the duct tape, he waited until she buttoned the shirt before looking up. Going through the same process as everyone else was, he turned her collar up and wound some duct tape around it, ensuring it would stay in place and help protect her neck. He turned to her wrists now, tucking the cuff of the shirt into the gloves and taping it down.

"You've never worn protective gear to take on Walkers?"

She shook her head. "Never had it."

Nodding, Rick understood. Not everyone was as well resourced as them. "We don't use it often…don't want to depend on it too much. But we're trying to conserve ammo, and we don't know how bad it's going to be inside. We don't want to take risks."

"It's smart," she commented.

He hesitated, gesturing to her waist. "You need to tuck your shirt in," he said. "Don't want your shirt riding up…if Walkers get you, I mean."

Obliging, she began to tuck it into the top of her light grey jeans, denim that wouldn't be that colour for much longer. Tearing off some tape, he wound it around her hips, fixing the two items of clothing together to ensure she was well protected. She helped him smooth it down, thanking him when he had finished. He couldn't help but remember her a few days ago, when he had patted her down for weapons. Even touching her shoulders elicited a response of fear, a flinch of discomfort. Things had changed significantly since then…he was about to take her into a Walker fight, depending on her to perform well for the sake of their group.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked one last time, helping her put the chest plate back on.

"Absolutely. I've gotta earn my place."

"No," he corrected her, concerned that she was doing this for the wrong reason. "You don't have to earn anything…you don't have to do this."

Giving a short sigh, Carrie looked at him intently, wanting him to understand. "I know I don't have to…you already told me I don't have to do anything I don't want to."

"Well, actually," he began, recalling the conversation they had upon first meeting. "What I said was you don't have to…you know…"

"Exchange sex for protection?"

"Yeah."

"I know that," she insisted. "But I want to join this group, if you'll have me. You seem like decent people, on the surface at least."

The words struck him hard…he often questioned whether they truly were decent people. It was one of the many thoughts that kept him up at night. "On the surface, at least," he agreed.

She didn't falter at this. "I won't be dead weight. If you've got a prison to clear, then I'm going to help."

Hesitating, Rick nodded slowly, accepting her explanation. He fiddled with the roll of duct tape, unconsciously leaning away as he scrutinised her. "You always sound so certain of everything," he blurted out, not thinking.

Carrie frowned, her dark eyebrows furrowing. "Really?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking around as he spoke. "It's kind of annoying actually…how do you do it?"

"I don't know," she said, surprised by his comments. "I wasn't certain this morning, when I was sticking you with a needle."

"You seemed certain enough."

She laughed, a hint of nervousness coming through. "Well, okay, but you should know I was faking it."

Without thinking, Rick again blurted out the first thing that came into his head. "You fake it often?"

She laughed again, sexual innuendo hanging in the air. "Once or twice…"

Shaking his head to himself, Rick was almost grateful when Abraham stalked over to them with an annoyed expression. Taking a quick look around, he realised that everyone else was prepared and filing into the two cars they would take to the prison. Resigning himself to an ear bashing, Rick knew what Abraham was going to say.

"Why the hell are you always the last one ready?" he said in frustration, thrusting some gear at him. "You're the last to eat, the last to get in the cars, the last to-"

"Sorry," he apologised, purely to keep the peace. He pulled on one of the padded shirts over his tee-shirt, tucking it in.

"Lord, give me strength!" Abraham continued in frustration, throwing the chest plate over Rick's shoulders and securing the straps. "Give me the strength not to beat your ass in front your son."

"Go on," Rick encouraged, glancing at Carrie. "He'd only heckle."

"That's true," he nodded in agreement, passing Carrie the roll of duct tape. "You do his feet, and the bottom of his shirt."

Knowing he had annoyed Abraham, Rick patiently let him have his way, knowing he was indeed holding everyone up. He quickly removed his duty belt from his hips, watching as Carrie tore off a length of duct tape. Doing what he had done for her, she taped the top of his jeans to the tucked in shirt, ensuring that it wouldn't ride up and expose his skin to the Walkers. She worked quickly, and although he had just wound the tape around and let her smooth it down, Carrie actually pressed it onto the denim herself, making him wonder if she was doing that intentionally. He was suddenly very aware of her presence, of just how close the two of them were to one another. Were her hands lingering on his hip a moment too long? Scolding himself, he mentally shook his head and refocused, ignoring her.

"Thanks, Carrie. You're all done," Abraham told her, pointing to the minivan.

"What about me?" Rick asked. "Can I be dismissed?"

Glaring at him, Abraham turned on the spot and followed Carrie. Laughing to himself, Rick headed over to the removal truck where Carl and Aidan were making themselves comfortable. Still getting used to the heavy riot gear, Rick climbed the side steps and peered into the cabin to check in on Carl. Just as he had before, he was looking significantly better, his face showing more and more colour. He looked comfortable enough waiting with Aidan, having set up a pillow and blanket so that he could sleep some more. The half bag of fluids hung from the sun visor, the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff sitting on the dashboard just in case they were needed.

"Stay in here, won't you?" he asked Carl, unable to not worry. "You'll be safer up high."

Perhaps he was aware of his vulnerability, or he didn't want to antagonise Rick right before he went into danger, for Carl just nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I will."

"Radio if you need something," he continued, gesturing to the ear piece he wore. "Don't worry about the sound giving us away to Walkers."

"We'll be fine, Dad," Carl told him impatiently. "Just hurry up and get this done."

He was about to give a nod of understanding, but the engine of the minivan began revving loudly. Looking down at them, Rick gave a small smile as Abraham stuck his head out the window and looked back.

"Mother Dick!" he shouted, his patience finally breaking. "I'm going to leave without you!"

Shaking his head, Rick suppressed a smile. This kind of verbal sparring was exactly what he needed at the moment, the jovial quip putting them all into a good mood. Looking back to Carl, he pulled him into a quick one-armed hug.

"Stay safe, Dad."

"I will," he promised, giving Aidan a quick nod. "Thanks, Aidan."

Leaving their farewell at that, Rick jumped down and picked up his helmet, giving Carl one last wave before closing his door for him.

"Hey, Dad," Carl called out through the open window. He grinned down at him. "Check your rounds."

Knowing that's exactly what he made Carl do before departing, Rick nodded, pulling out his revolver as he headed back to the minivan. Just as threatened, Abraham was already rolling the vehicle forward, forcing Rick to run and catch up to them. Swinging himself into the front passenger seat, he looked at Abraham and shook his head.

"Calm down…everything's going to be fine."

The tyres squealed as Abraham took off quickly, kicking up a cloud of dirt behind them. The occupants of the car were silent as they made their way towards the prison, each of them consumed by their own thoughts, their own fears. Rick on the other hand, felt the weight of not just his own fears, but everyone else's too…they were his group, and he was leading them into a potential death trap, consent notwithstanding.

Mentally preparing himself, Rick dreaded that day's task.

* * *

Holy crap, 44 followers! That's awesome, thank you guys! I'd love to hear feedback and thoughts from anyone, but particularly those following who are (hopefully) invested in the story thus far. Prompts/plot requests are welcome and will be considered.

Anyone else majorly excited by the season 6 trailer?


	11. Chapter 11

The short drive to the prison was taken in silence, each of them taking time to gather their thoughts. It was a process Rick knew well, the familiar calm before the storm helping them all mentally prepare, to get their heads around the fact that they were intentionally putting themselves in danger. Just like he knew the others from the prison were, Rick was also trying to prepare himself for the onslaught of grief that was only minutes away…they hadn't mourned the loss of the prison. There had been no time.

Seated in the front passenger seat, Rick watched their familiar surroundings flashing by, the ache of sadness in his chest already starting. This was supposed to have been their home…they had worked so hard to make it that. As he often did, he pondered on his many regrets, one of which had been his growing complacency. After the Governor had first attacked and lost most of his army, Rick hadn't anticipated a repeat attack. He had allowed Michonne and Daryl to pursue him at their leisure, humouring them because he understood the losses they had borne, the blood they wanted to extract. Yet even then, Rick hadn't anticipated that the Governor would return, that he would have another group of unwitting survivors fighting on his behalf.

Learning that people were the real danger had been a difficult lesson, one that had destroyed them. Remembering the day with great clarity, Rick knew he had also learnt another difficult lesson the hard way. Some people were just not meant to be negotiated with. He shouldn't have bothered going down and trying to negotiate…he should have taken him out straight away, one clean shot that would have ended it. There would have been a fight of course…but perhaps it would have gone differently…

 _"You know, you start that…you'll never get that monkey off your back."_

Shane's advice from so long ago came back to him now, easily remembering the two of them sitting side by side at the Greene family farm. Carl had just been shot, and unable to do anything to help him Rick had been full of despair, questioning why he had allowed his child to accompany him on the search for Sophia. The regret he felt over that seemingly innocent decision still haunted him, even though he knew he was not to blame. The loss of the prison was another weight he continued to carry, feeling responsible for it's demise. His inattention to the threat beyond their gates and his desperation to negotiate had gotten people killed…Herschel.

"Shit," Rick cursed, his shoulders slumping.

"What?" Abraham questioned in concern, looking at him.

Rick turned to the back seat, looking at Glenn. "Herschel…his body is still here."

Glenn nodded, having already remembered this. "I'll take care of him," he said quietly. "Once we've cleared the prison."

"We'll help," Rick replied automatically.

"No," Glenn shook his head. "Maggie asked me to do it…just me."

Considering him, Rick slowly nodded his head. Turning back in his seat, not another word was said on the subject, no one wanting to acknowledge the loss any more than necessary. Though he tried to avoid it, Rick pictured Herschel's mutilated body laying out there in the open, lacking the dignity of a proper burial. He had spent a long time ignoring Herschel's death, trying to ignore the man's very existence, for acknowledging him was too much. After the prison fell, and then Terminus, there just wasn't the time or capacity for any of them to grieve, not even Maggie. Then after losing Beth and Tyreese, Rick had still pushed their deaths aside, focusing on ensuring the rest of the group made it through each and every day spent on the road.

A particularly rough pothole jolted Rick back to the present, the minivan's suspension groaning in protest. From the backseat Daryl gave a bitter laugh, reminding them that he used to hit that same pothole every damn time. Steeling himself, Rick up as they made their way around the last bend in the road, the trees parting to suddenly reveal the back of the prison.

It was a strange scene to see, abandoned cars strewn about and looking terribly out of place. The smoke that had been emanating from the prison was gone now, but still the damage remained, obvious even from a distance. After the cars, the fallen fences to his left were the next thing Rick noticed, his eyes following the path the tank had taken across the lower field and up into the courtyard. Despite the fallen fences and the enormous stream of Walkers that had filed into the prison, it was strangely quiet, the scene presented before him almost entirely inactive. There were Walkers of course, but they were slow moving, having nothing to take their interest.

It was surprisingly peaceful.

The cars approached the gates, Abraham and Nicholas stopping alongside one another outside the gates. The two vehicles sat there inanimate for a few moments, perhaps unsure of how to proceed, hoping someone from the prison group would tell them what to do. Staring at the large orange doors and wooden spikes that protected the gates, Rick felt as though it was any other day…that they were returning from a supply run and waiting for the person on gate duty to open them up. In the first month after welcoming the Woodbury residents, Carl had most often taken gate duty when there was a supply run, both avoiding the new people and awaiting his father's return.

"Holy shit," Carrie said in bewilderment, dropping the first swear word Rick had heard from her. Grabbing the seats in front of her, she leant forward and peered up at the prison as her jaw gaped. "Is that a tank?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Abraham declared, strumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He looked up at the prison, his eyes scrutinising every aspect as though watching the scene play out in front of him.

"No one mentioned a tank." Sitting back in her seat, she looked around at them all. "What happened here?"

Glenn and Daryl were sitting in the back with her, but neither them nor Rick answered her question. Slowly turning, Abraham frowned her her. "You don't know what happened?"

She shook her head. "I thought it got overrun."

Abraham sighed to himself, directing a glare from Rick, to Glenn and then to Daryl. "Three days she's been with us, and not one of you gave her the Cliff Notes?"

"Wha' the fuck are Cliff Notes?" Daryl asked impatiently, lighting a cigarette.

Clenching his jaw, Rick knew Daryl must be as stressed as he was…he was normally a surprisingly considerate smoker, never lighting up inside the car. Not entirely certain of what prompted him to do so, he opened the door and stepped out of the car, ignoring Abraham's confused protests. Slamming it closed, Rick stood with his hand resting on his hip, breathing in the fresh air and hoping for familiarity. He was disappointed though…air that had so recently been clean and refreshing was now pungent with the stench of rotting corpses. In fact, it smelled just as it had their first few weeks there, when they had first cleared the prison. It had taken weeks of cleaning every reachable surface for the smell to dissipate, only to have it return now with such ease. Breathing in again, Rick was sure he could even smell lingering smoke and gunpowder.

Nicholas wound down the window of the other car, interrupting Rick's peaceful moment. "Are we going in?"

Annoyed by the interruption, Rick nodded, clarifying when he saw Nicholas gesturing to the broken fences. It would be easier to take the path the Governor and his men had taken…but Herschel's body was there. "Just wait a minute."

Casting a glance into the backseat at Michonne, he gave her a quick nod before walking away. Without a word he set off towards the gates, his hands automatically reaching for the set of keys he happened to be be carrying that final day. His boots crunching on the gravel, Rick let himself enjoy the familiar ritual of sorting through the keys to find the one he needed. With practiced ease he opened the lock and stepped through the access door, but didn't feel the normal sense of home he should have. Instead he closed the door behind him and proceeded in to the next, unlocking it too. Dragging open the large interior gates, he found the rope and pulley system and pulled down on it. It must have been damaged, for only one of the doors opened, but it was enough to allow them through.

As both cars safely passed, Rick let the door close and then dragged the other gates shut, securing the locks. Standing there for a moment, he looked down at the keys in his hands, remembering many nights on the road when he would put his hand into his pocket just to reassure himself that they were still there. These keys had been the only connection he had to the prison, the only undeniable proof that it had existed. Now that they were back there, he felt only a strange displacement, like this place had never really belonged to his family at all.

The strange feeling sent him wandering the lower field, taking in the scene before him. Abandoned cars scattered the vicinity, dotting the field and highlighting the length of their fences that had fallen upon the tank's attack. Going at his own pace, he walked past the overturned bus and looked out across the open field, taking note of the dozen or so Walkers that ambled about, taking note of their proximity. None of them were close enough to him to be of concern, but nevertheless he thoroughly checked his vicinity and drew his machete just in case.

Taking everything in, he cast his eyes from the damaged prison above down to their graveyard, where one more grave would need to be dug out…more than one if they found any of their own people that day. The others, their attackers…they would be burnt along with the Walkers. Still looking around, he took note of the horse shed whose roof had caved in, what was left of Flame's corpse not far away. Their expansive gardens were thoroughly overgrown with weeds, the tall grass growing amongst the carefully tended plants he and Carl had spent months caring for.

Hearing the engines revving, Rick looked up to see the two cars driving around the field to take down the Walkers. In amusement, he watched as Michonne hung out of the back window, one hand hanging onto the roof racks, the other swinging her katana and taking down Walkers with ease. In the minivan, Glenn was doing the same, and between them they took down the Walkers that lingered there. Thinking back to the first time he had set foot through these gates, Rick wished it had been that easy to clear this field. He smiled again, remembering the moment that Carol had nearly shot him as he made a run for the top gate. Things had changed so much since then.

Turning away from the gardens, Rick wandered back towards the grey bus, knowing whose body he was going to find nearby. Finding what was left of him, he slowly approached and then stopped a few feet away, not desiring to get much closer. There was little left of the Governor, the Walkers having descended upon him when his death was still raw…but there was enough that he was recognisable by the black eye patch that remained on his decaying face. Staring down at the corpse, he reflected on the brutal fight that had almost seen Rick killed, remembering the tight hands around his neck as he was nearly strangled. It had been two months ago that he had attacked their home, and Rick still recalled every detail of their fight, every punch and kick with horrifying clarity. He had gone down quickly, the weaker of the two after being shot in the leg. If it hadn't been for Michonne…he had been so close to death.

Until the outbreak, he had always imagined death would be peaceful, just like slipping into a deep sleep. Being shot the first time had quickly brought him down from that wishful thinking, the injury introducing him to what it must be like to die. He had been right in some respects, as it was indeed just like drifting off to sleep…if that sleep involved the struggle to breathe, the agony of trying to make sure Shane told Lori that he loved her. His most recent brush had been no different. Except this time it had been Carl and Judith he thought of, his heart filled with the awful knowledge that they would have to endure this world without him. But even that thought didn't give him the strength to throw off his attacker, to hold on for just one moment longer. He owned his life to Michonne…that much he was clear on.

A Walker was close by, looking at Rick with intent as it slowly shuffled its way over to him. There was enough distance that he wasn't concerned about it, and so turned his attention to the broken fence instead. One whole section had been taken down by the enormous tank, crushing it with greater ease than Judith knocking over a tower of blocks. Looking in that direction, Rick knew Herschel's body was out there somewhere…that's where the Governor had attacked him…that where his boy would lie. Unable to face him just yet, Rick turned for the gardens and strolled straight past the Walker, shrugging it off as it clawed at his well protected arm. He knew that Glenn wanted to bury Herschel himself, that Maggie had asked him to, but Rick wanted to help. Although the task itself would be gut wrenching, he owed it to Herschel. More than just feeling responsible for the poor way the negotiations had gone, Herschel was family to him, like his own father even. Rick wanted to help lay him to rest…but ultimately that was up to Glenn. Nevertheless, Rick would offer his assistance again, just in case Glenn wasn't as stoic as he appeared.

Letting the Walker follow him, Rick trailed his hand through the weeds, familiarising himself once again with the long rows of food he, Carl and Herschel had worked on. Weeds had taken over, forcing the plants to compete for nutrients in soil that had not been tended to, soil that had not been watered or composted in two months. Despite this, the plants had still borne food. Radishes littered the ground, ripe and ready for consumption just like the beans that were begging to be harvested. Heading over to the potatoes, Rick began digging around in the soil, finding the solid mass he was looking for. The potato was small and still slightly green, not yet ready to be eaten…but could they make do? They would be on the road for a while more yet…fresh food was not to be turned away. Uncertain, he tucked it back into the soil and patted it down again, brushing his hands off. Crouched down, he observed all of the plants and wondered if they would be able to take them back to Alexandria somehow. Would they survive being transported for a few days? Perhaps if they tended to them well, gave them as much sunlight as possible…

"Rick," Michonne said quietly, interrupting him from his thoughts.

He looked up at her, noticing that she had taken down the Walker that had followed him. She waited patiently for him to stand, but it was clear that she was trying to prompt him into action now. Brushing off his hands again, he stood up and faced her, his mouth forming a grimace as he saw her concerned expression.

"Everyone's ready," she said, indicating to the gates up top where the tank stood idle. The two cars had reversed in either side of it, blocking off the entrance to the courtyard, but ready to make a run for it if they needed to ditch.

"We need to check the other driveway," he said, looking around. "Make sure they closed it after the bus left."

"Maggie said she did…after she, Bob and Sasha left."

"So the courtyards closed in?"

Michonne nodded. "Glenn closed all the doors to C Block when he left…it should be secure in there."

Following her lead, Rick headed up to the gates where everyone was waiting for them, taking in the damage from a different angle this time. "We'll need to block off the holes in A and D Block…there's no use in securing the courtyard if they're only going to come streaming out of the tombs…"

"We will."

"And down there," he gestured to the damaged fences, needing to voice all of his thoughts before they were forgotten. "We'll need to move the spikes to cover the opening…it'll take most of us to carry them."

"We'll take care of it," she assured him. She looked at him critically. "You got your head on for this? You feeling well enough?"

"Yes," he answered, not letting himself feel annoyance for these questions. If the situation was reversed, he would be asking her the same thing. "Let's just get this over with."

It was clear that everyone had been waiting for him, the group standing around with upmost patience as they looked into the courtyard, familiarising themselves with the layout. Abraham nodded to him, indicating that he should take the lead on this. Walkers had already noticed them, and groups of them were beginning to swarm towards the car. Others further back hadn't noticed them yet.

"Have we got teams?" Rick asked.

"Yes," Abraham answered. "We'll have Michonne, Nicholas and myself together. Then Daryl, Rosita and Tobin. You, Carrie, Aaron and Glenn will make a group of four."

"Good," he nodded in approval. There was one of every original prison resident in each group, and their potentially weakest member Carrie was in a group of four, right by his side. "We do this methodically, section by section. Stick to your teams, and stay in your formation no matter what."

Looking into the courtyard, Rick took count of the Walkers there. It suddenly occurred to him that it had been almost exactly a whole year since they had first taken the prison. Judith's first birthday was only a few weeks away…As he expected there were more Walkers than the first time, but at least they had more than five people to retake the courtyard.

"We've done this before, with less people, and less protection. It can be done," he stressed. "Just stay in formation, and you won't get overwhelmed. The three groups…we stay close to each other, watch one another's backs. We'll start with the right hand side over here…then sweep around and finish up on the other side. Blocking the two hole in A and D Block is a priority, use whatever you can. There could be Walkers inside, and we can't afford to be taken by surprise."

"And if things go to shit?" Tobin asked, checking his weapon.

Rick was pleased by his cautious question. Raising his hand, he pointed to C Block. "After the attack, Glenn came around and went into C Block. It should be safe in there…if things go badly, head for C. Otherwise, you can go to either one of the guard towers there, and there."

Rick looked to Carrie, observing her expression with care. She was the only enigma in this group, the only one he wasn't certain of, and so he was glad she was in the group of four. Although she had been coming across as strong and well versed in taking down Walkers, they had to accept the fact that they didn't know her well. After four months on her own, perhaps she might not remember how to work in a team. She could panic.

"Any questions?"

They shook their heads negatively, everyone taking the last few moments to check their weapons and armour.

"Does everyone know how to use the radios? The ear pieces and mics?"

"We should check them first," Abraham said as everyone nodded in agreement.

Reaching for his hip, Rick switched on his radio and held the button down. Demonstrating how to use the mic, he leant into his collar and began speaking. "Aidan? Everything alright back there?"

There was a short delay, everyone nodding as they heard Rick's voice feed through their ear pieces.

"Yeah, all good here," Aidan replied.

"Good…use the ear piece for the radio."

"Why's that?"

"I don't want Carl to hear if things go wrong."

There was a short laugh. "I'll use the piece, but Carl's sleeping. I gave him more painkillers…he's alright though."

"Good," Rick breathed, looking to each person to ensure their radio was working. "We're just going to do a mic check, and then we're going in to clear the courtyard."

"Good luck."

They went around in the circle, every one of them speaking into their microphone and adjusting their volumes. When he was confident that everyone was prepared and ready, Rick gave a short nod, steeling his own nerves before giving the go ahead. While the others went and stood out of sight behind the tank, Tobin put his helmet on and loaded a flare. Needing to divert the Walkers long enough that they could get into the courtyard and into formation, Tobin fired the flare towards one of the basketball hoops and then retreated behind the tank. As they had hoped, the Walkers slowly turned their attention to the jet of red light that went flying past them, quickly beginning to swarm.

Rick had estimated at least sixty or so Walkers that they had trapped inside the courtyard. They had streamed in through one single entrance, and like a fly caught inside a house, they had spent two months struggling to get back out the same way. Stepping out from behind the tank, Rick and Abraham raised their guns and took down the few Walkers that still lingered close, the use of the silencers helping to keep the other's distracted. Giving the signal, Abraham led Michonne and Nicholas over the hood of the minivan and into the courtyard. As though attached at the hip, the three of them created a tight formation and stayed with one another. As a single unit, they moved into the courtyard and got to work, but still stayed close by to wait for the others.

Daryl, Tobin and Rosita entered next, and though Tobin had never fought in such a formation before, he quickly caught on, sticking close to the others. As Aaron and Glenn started climbing over the hood of the minivan Rick paused and looked back at Carrie, having almost forgotten that she was there. Looking her up and down, he took note of her tense shoulders and firm grip on her machete, and he hoped to God she was up for this.

"Come on," he encouraged, slamming shut the visor on his helmet.

Checking on the others, he quickly climbed over the hood and then turned back for her again, relieved to see that she was following. But at the last minute she appeared to hesitate, faltering a little as she looked into the courtyard. The Walkers were taking interest in them now, and the first two groups heading into the fray and separated them into smaller, more manageable swarms. Looking back at Carrie, Rick started to tell her to stay, that it was alright for her to back out…but he found himself holding his hand out for her instead.

Almost immediately she took it, slamming her visor shut as she leapt down off the hood. Still holding her hand, he practically dragged her to his side, demonstrating her place in the formation.

"Stay to my right at all times," he shouted encouragingly, already struggling to make himself heard over the growling and snarls of the Walkers.

Taking her gloved hand, he placed it over the knife holster by her hip, telling her to draw it to. She did as instructed, taking it out and now armed with both a knife and machete. Giving Glenn and Aaron a loud shout, their group moved into the foray of Walkers, Rick keeping a close eye on Carrie and where she was. Just like Tobin, she quickly caught on, following them and keeping her back protected in formation. Not even five seconds later she was taking down a Walker, jabbing her knife into the rotted skull and then roughly kicking it away from her.

Pleased by her first kill, Rick gave her a nod of approval before he too took down his first Walker of the day.

* * *

If Rick hadn't held his hand out for her, Carrie was certain she might have stayed on the hood of that car the whole day, frozen into place.

Halfway through climbing across the hood, she had begun to hesitate, her heart faltering as she watched the first two groups forcing their way through the Biters, parting the enormous swarm and diverting them into separate groups. They were so bold, so brave, and for a terrifying moment Carrie doubted herself. She was weak after living hand to mouth for so long, her body not possessing the strength it used to. But Rick had seen this. He was right in front of her, and he stopped to look over his shoulder, waiting to see that she followed them in safely. Seeing her fear, he had reached out his hand and offered it to her, a silent indication that it would be okay. Aaron and Glenn stood in front of him, already fending off Biters, but refusing to leave the formation without their whole group. Trusting them, she slammed the visor of her helmet down and then grabbed Rick's hand, letting him roughly pull her off the trunk and to the ground.

Dragging her into position by his side, he held her hand a few moments longer, helping her situate herself. "Stay to my right, at all times!" He shoved her hand to the hunting knife on her belt, an indication to take it out. "Let's go!" he shouted, nudging Aaron and Glenn to indicate they were ready.

Their group pushed forward, Rick giving a gentle tug on her shirt to make sure she followed. Not even a moment later she saw her first target, and instinctually jabbed her hunting knife into the skull. She kicked it far away from her, watching as the body crumbled to the ground with harsh finality. From the corner of her eye she caught Rick's nod of approval, before he too took down a Biter. They kept pushing through the initial mass of Biters, their group of four shoving through and parting them with ease. Quickly catching up to the other groups, they stuck close by and found a less crowded area where there was more room to swing their weapons.

"Keep moving!" Glenn shouted, waving to the other groups. "Don't let them swarm."

There wasn't time to look at their surroundings, to establish exactly where they were. The group moved so quickly, Carrie struggling as Rick or Glenn constantly grabbed for her, helping her keep up. Never stopping, she used both hands to wield the machete and hunting knife she had been given, grateful for the heavy protection the gear provided her. The Biters were intense, surrounding them every time they stayed stationery for too long. They grappled for her arms, their mouths blankly opening and closing as though gaping for air, except it wasn't air they were gaping for. It was only a minute before the shield across her face was covered in blood, obscuring her vision as she cleaned it as best she could. But her gloves and sleeves were just as wet with blood, and she finally resorted to raising the shield, taking a risk for the sake of being able to see.

Distracted, she didn't notice the large Biter ambling close to her until she had raised the visor. Glenn saw it first, aiming his knife but hitting the neck instead. The Biter was tall, and didn't even notice Glenn's attack. As he pulled his knife out and took aim again, Carrie kicked out at it, trying to give them more time. But her kick was poorly executed, and she lost her balance as the Biter's hands flourished to grab hold of her. Falling onto her side, she scrambled to get back up, dropping her machete in the process. Corpses littered the courtyard they were trying to retake, and she tripped over one now as the large Biter loomed over her again.

"Fall back!" Glenn cried, grabbing the back of Aaron's shirt and tugging. "Carrie!"

Before she could reach for the machete, Rick's hand was clenched around her upper arm, roughly hauling her to her feet again. He dragged her back to his side, ignoring her protests as she pointed to the weapon. "Wait, I-"

"Leave it!" he instructed, pushing two Biters away to give themselves time to recollect.

Armed with only her knife and the gun she didn't want to use, Carrie felt even more vulnerable. Struggling to see without peripheral vision, she spent the majority of her time looking left and right, making sure she was still with the others and that she hadn't fallen behind again. Engaging in even closer combat now, Carrie drove the knife into as many skulls as she could reach, shoving away the others that she couldn't get to with only one weapon. But her gloves were slippery with blood and gore, and the knife slipped from her hands without warning, a Biter falling to the ground with the weapon still embedded in it's cheek.

"Shit."

"Gun!" Glenn told her, throwing his hand across her chest as she dove for the knife. "Draw your gun!"

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Carrie did as she was told. Fumbling with it, her hands trembled as she tried to wipe her gloves clean on her trousers. The silencer attached made it difficult to handle, the weight of it feeling entirely different in her hands. Struggling to hold it, she shakily removed the safety and looked around, only just remembering to engage a round before seeking a target. A great number of the Biters had already been taken down by now, the groups fumbling and tripping over the many bodies that littered courtyard. But many still remained, and Carrie raised the gun to one ahead, taking a breath before firing. Swearing when she missed, she proceeded to waste three more bullets.

"Stop panicking," Rick shouted, looking around at her. Raising the visor of his own helmet, he looked at her properly. "Take your time!"

Growling in frustration, Carrie dashed forward a few steps, getting close enough to finally take the headshot she wanted. The Biter fell with dramatic flair, it's head falling back as Carrie returned back to the group, hearing Rick swearing at her now. She kept firing, the similar pelting sound coming from the others too. But soon her weapon was empty, and she struggled to release the magazine while wearing her gloves. It finally dropped out onto the ground, and she fumbled to replace it with her spare, dropping that too.

Now she did indeed begin to feel the panic Rick had just told her to ignore. Readjusting her grip on the handle, she used the long barrel of the silencer to stab the Biters, aiming for the eyes. They kept going, the groups still moving about to ensure they didn't get swarmed, and they began to circle back the way they had come. Carrie caught a brief glimpse of the large Biter that had grabbed hold of her, and her machete that had fallen nearby. Thinking only of her empty gun, Carrie broke away from the group and made a mad dash for the machete, shoving aside a Biter that lunged for her.

"Carrie, no!"

Following her, Rick too broke rank. He raced over, drawing his gun and firing rapidly as Biters began turning their attention to her, the lone prey. As she scrambled to pick up the machete, Rick reached her and grabbed her arm again, pulling her upright and dragging her back to the group.

"Do not break rank!" he shouted furiously, rejoining their original formation.

"I needed-"

"Not for anything," he shouted again. He pulled her around to his left side now, his fist gripping the waistband of her jeans. "I will hold you like this all day if I have to!"

"We're nearly there," Aaron called out from beside her, giving her a nod of encouragement.

Rick was true to his word, fighting single handedly as he continued holding on to the back of her jeans, keeping her by his side where he wanted her. They continued in this way for some time, and sooner than she expected, all ten of them slowed to a stop, looking around in disbelief. Dead Biters littered the expansive courtyard, the stench of decay and blood even more pungent. There was complete silence now, everyone standing very still as they assessed their surroundings, just waiting for more Biters to appear.

"Eight minutes," Abraham declared, looking at his watch. "I lost that bet."

Rick was wasting no time with trivial bets. "Daryl," he began instructing, still catching his breath. "Take your group, comb every part of this courtyard, make sure there's none left. Michonne, you take the hole in A Block…we'll take the hole in D."

"Stay in your groups," Daryl reminded them, loading a bolt before swinging the crossbow over his shoulder.

Their tasks assigned, they each set off, but there was a long moment before Rick finally let go of Carrie. Without a word, he gestured for her to follow, leading their group over to one of the buildings.

"Check they're all dead," he told the group, his gun still trained on the bodies as they weaved their way through the dead Biters.

In no time at all, the two groups had assessed the damage sustained during the attack, blocking up the holes and making sure Biters inside couldn't get out. They reconvened, and despite their success, no one seemed overly excited. Rick's group in particular seemed quiet, their expressions sour as they took in their surroundings. Those not from the prison however seemed politely silent, looking around and familiarising themselves with the courtyard. They started talking quietly for a few minutes, recapping their work, but Rick stood in silence, his arms folded as he stared at the ground and listened. Suddenly he turned and walked away, Carrie watching as he slowly made his way over towards a large pile of rubble.

Above him was the remains of what had once been a walkway between the two buildings, now reduced to nothing but two sides and a gaping chasm. He came to a stop beside what looked like a pink and grey children's car seat. Looking down at it, his shoulders slumped before he tore off his helmet and used a clean part of his sleeve to brush his wavy hair off his face. His hands came to rest on his hips as he assessed the extent of the damage, raising his eyes to the broken walkway. Waiting patiently, Carrie too began to take in the surroundings, her heart filled with sadness when she saw the efforts made to turn a prison into a home.

A gazebo of some sort had been erected, a barbecue and picnic tables set up inside it. There were still plates and cutlery left out, as though someone had been eating when the attack happened. Upon closer inspection she took note of the rubble that littered the ground along with the Biters, and the hundreds of bullet holes littering the walls. Breaking away from the group, Carrie walked past a basketball hoop whose net was missing and headed over to a raised garden bed filled with lush greenery. This winter had been blessedly mild in comparison to the last, allowing an assortment of plants and herbs to grow. Choosing a plant, she leant down and inhaled deeply. It was Sage.

"Carrie," Rick said quietly, walking up behind her.

She turned around, meeting his eye for the first time since he had yelled at her. There was a smear of red on his forehead from where he had pushed his hair back. "Yeah?"

"We're going inside," he said, indicating to the others. They were filing into one of the buildings, C Block, looking very relieved. "Come on."

Nodding, she followed him across the courtyard and into the building, only a little apprehensive about what she might find inside. Glenn had said it was secure in there…but was anything ever really secure? It had been two months since they had been here. Any number of things could have happened since then. But as she followed Rick through the cage like entrance and into the interior, she knew everything was alright. If the inside was overrun, there would be screaming by now.

Stepping inside, Carrie squinted as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark interior. She paused for a moment, taking in the cavernous room that was surprisingly warm. It was a little dark, the only light streaming in through the dusty windows overhead, but it was comfortable enough to look around. Slowly descending a short set of stairs, she craned her neck up at the walkway around the top of the room before casting her eyes back down. The pang of sadness returned, seeing the well organised and homely room. Clearly set up as a common room, there were some circular tables fixed to the floor, a few shelves filled with food, kitchenware and plates, as well as a some battered old couches pushed up against the other wall. Looking over into the corner, she saw a basketball and a set of colourful children's blocks left behind as their owners fled.

"Pick an empty cell," Glenn instructed, leading the rest of the group though a steel gate. The followed him slowly, looking as though they were visiting someone on their death bed.

Hanging back, Carrie watched as Rick slowly lowered himself onto one of the steel seats, resting an elbow on the circular table. Tearing off his gloves, he tossed them and his helmet aside, rubbing his forehead with a long sigh. He looked weary, his expression depicting a man who had once again seen too much. Concerned, Carrie hung back too, placing her helmet on the other table.

"You should go find a cell," he instructed her, seeing that she was still there. "There should be some empty ones downstairs…they're warmest."

"Thanks," she muttered, still looking around. "You coming?"

He shook his head. "No…I'll wait for Carl."

Although he could clearly take care of himself, she felt concerned for him, not liking the expression on his face. Listening to the echoes of the others, Carrie sighed and sat down at the other table, rolling her shoulders back and feeling every ache and pain. She was exhausted now, her muscles desiring a long, hot shower to ease their tension. In place of that, sitting still for a little while would have to be enough. There was still a long day ahead of them. There was more of the prison that needed to be cleared before they could settle in safely, and then some of the supplies from the truck would need to be unpacked. She could rest for a little while…but only for a little while.

"You'll miss out on the good cells," he warned her, sparing her a glance before reaching for something on the table. It was a piece of paper, and his eyes blankly scanned the neat writing.

"I don't mind a bit of cold," she shrugged. "Besides, some guy lent me his jacket…"

A small smile crossed his face at this, and he raised his eyes from the paper. "Some guy?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Some guy."

He laughed shortly, putting down the piece of paper now. Forcing himself to his feet he made his way over to the shelves on the far side of the room, his eyes scanning the food and supplies they had there. His few moment of relaxation was clearly over, and he was back in leadership mode. Assessing the food supplies they had on hand, he turned his attention to a door made of steel bars, looking through it at an angle. He stood there quietly, looking each way down the hall and listening for any sound. It was difficult, what with the echoes coming from C Block behind them, but nevertheless he seemed reassured. The door was securely locked…nothing would be coming through there.

"I, err…I'm sorry for breaking formation," Carrie began, knowing the apology was necessary. "It was stupid."

He looked at her curiously, perhaps not having expected this. Opening his mouth to reply, it looked at first as though he was going to brush her off, to say that it was alright. But he stopped, pressing his lips together. Finally he gave her a short nod.

"Don't let it happen again," he said, though his tone lacked genuine anger.

"I won't." Still looking around, she smiled at some children's drawings that had been proudly taped to the wall. "I'm not used to fighting Biters like that."

"In groups?"

"No…with control. I mean it was chaos," she cringed. "But it was controlled chaos."

There was a long pause, Rick removing his revolver and reloading it. He wiped a little blood off the muzzle before snapping the barrel closed. There was an air of discomfort between them, and it seemed to her that he was just going through the motions so that he had something to do with his hands.

"Have you always called them Biters?" he enquired, looking at her curiously.

"Have you always called them Walkers?"

The corner of his mouth turned upward at her counter question, and he politely answered first. "Yes…It was the first term I heard. And with Carl…I guess Walker just didn't sound as scary to a twelve year old."

"Biter was the first name I heard," she answered now. "It guess it just stuck…fitted. I like Walker, though."

"Why's that?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she tried to answer. "You're right…it's less scary."

"I don't get the impression you're overly scared of them," he pondered, coming over and sitting with her. He sat at her table now, leaning back as he scrutinised her. "No more than the rest of us, anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged, one hand reaching up and roughly combing his hair back. She took the opportunity to observe him a little more closely, grimacing at the cuts and bruises that marred his handsome features. Mainly along the right side of his face where his head had hit the window during their car accident, the skin was turning an unsavoury green, the little cuts swollen and sore. The left hand side of his jaw bore the worst of the bruises, Carl's ferocious kick leaving a black shadow. As though hearing her thoughts, Rick rubbed his left upper arm, where Carl's kicks had left even worse bruises.

"I'm not sure," he confessed, giving her a tentative smile. "Something."

She returned his smile, suddenly breaking his gaze and looking away. God, it felt like his eyes were looking right inside her, that he could see everything going on inside her head, even though he had just professed the opposite.

"I didn't feel scared today," she mused, habit seeing her touch her fingers where her wedding rings should be. That jewellery had been gone for years. "I did at first, of course. But not like normal…"

"Why's that?"

"Dressing up like GI Jane sure helped."

He nodded in agreement. "It does encourage a certain level of confidence."

Agreeing with him, she continued. "Anyway…thanks."

He didn't say anything to this, giving a long sigh as he looked over his shoulder. Peering towards the steel bars that sectioned off the cells, he looked as though he longed to go inside, to retake his place and relax in familiar surroundings. But thinking of Carl, he waited.

"You did well today," he complimented.

Surprised by this, she looked up and caught his eye, feeling her heart starting to pound. "Thank you."

They looked at each other for a long moment, Carrie trying to decipher exactly what Rick was thinking. Suddenly very aware of her breathing, she scanned her eyes up and down his features, her gaze falling on his slightly parted lips. Despite the stress of the day and the amount of blood he had given to Carl, his lips were full and red, the cupid's bow prominent. Without reason, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his lips to dragging across the skin of her neck as his short beard tickled her…holy shit…where had that come from?

"Carrie?"

"Huh?"

He was smiling at her now, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face. "Do you want to clear the tombs with us?" he asked, gesturing to the other door he had been looking through before.

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "If you're willing to have me."

"I am," he answered. Looking away, he cast his eyes down to the floor as he kept talking. "It's dark in there, though. And the Walkers…it's like the lack of light makes them go to sleep or something. They just seem to stand there."

"I've seen them like that…there's nothing to stimulate them, so they just wait."

He nodded in agreement. "Once they get riled up…it's like a child waking from a nap, full of energy. And in those narrow halls, it's like they-"

"-move faster than normal," she concluded, understanding perfectly.

Looking up at her again, he nodded. "You sure you're up for that?"

She didn't resent his repeated questioning. He had to be confident in her. "Yes."

There was another long silence, Rick breaking it by gesturing to the cell block again. "Well you should get some rest before we go in…eat and drink something."

"Okay," she agreed, collecting her helmet and standing up. "You should too, you know."

He just nodded, trying to hide his amusement at her telling him what to do. With a backward glance at him, she headed over to the entrance and looked in, her jaw gaping at the sheer volume of the double height room. The large windows were dirty with dust and poorly filled the space with light, but there was enough to see that this room too had been made into a home. The cells stood in two rows along the left hand side, the previously occupied ones indicated by a sheet or blanket cast across the entrance for privacy and warmth. A long table stood in the middle of the wide common area, littered with various personal items such as books and trinkets. A can of baby formula and a pink baby bottle sat abandoned next to a pacifier. In the corner a colourful playpen sat on top of a thick blanket, housing an array of baby toys in various shapes and colours.

"Carrie," Rick called, getting her attention. When she looked back at him curiously, she found him staring at her with what looked like awe. "How are you always so certain?"

It was the second time he had mentioned that to her today, and the second time it had baffled her. Did she really sound certain of everything she said and did? Had she always been that way? Shrugging her shoulders, she tried to speak with honesty.

"I never said I was."

* * *

A/N I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a good feeling now that they've finally reached the prison. Please leave your thoughts in a review, and feel free to make a prompt/suggestion if you have something I should consider writing. Thanks.


	12. Chapter 12

By the time they finally reached mid afternoon, Carrie was certain her body was preparing to fall apart. The day's work had been long and arduous, pushing her tired body almost to its limit. Even without being in a car accident the prior day, she wasn't in the best of health in the first place. She had always fared reasonably well when in a group, always lucky enough that they found sufficient food and water to keep themselves going, but four months completely on her own had taken it's toll. Running from Biters…no, she called them Walkers now…meant that there was always an opportunity for a cardio work out, but not enough calories to support it. Her once curvaceous shape had wasted away, leaving her gaunt and underweight in just a few months. Though she was being very well looked after by the new group, everyone always giving her extra rations once she had been able to stomach them, she was nowhere near her former level of health.

Still, she was determined to pull her weight, even if it left her exhausted, and so she helped the group clear out the prison that day. Not just the large courtyard, but also the long twisting corridors that they referred to as the tombs. Rick had been right, of course. In the dark narrow hallways the Walkers seemed to move with greater speed, converging on them and forcing them back until they could regain their own momentum and begin fighting once more. While the courtyard had taken them a respectable eight minutes to clear, they had spent almost forty minutes in the tombs, constantly doubling back and losing ground until the three groups finally managed to close off the open door that was admitting so many of the dead. Chaining the door closed, Daryl gave a loud whoop of relief, declaring that the prison was safe enough for them to rest. No one dared challenge this, not even Rick, although Carrie noted that he chained other doors and gates closed too.

Then, the cleanup had began. Wheelbarrows from the lower garden had been brought up, and the ten of them had slowly begun clearing out the Walkers from the courtyard. In twos and threes they were moved out of the way, dumped in a designated corner where Tobin and Glenn arranged them for burning. However it wasn't the sheer volume of the dead Walkers that had astounded Carrie…it was the dead people, actual humans that lay there rotting in the winter sun. When they had begun clearing them, identifying the people from the Walkers, Rick and the others had collected dozens of weapons and spare ammunition from the corpses. They had simply dumped them outside C Block to be cleaned at a later time. The bodies however…most were dragged into the pile of Walkers.

"Hey," Nicholas called out to Rick. Stopping in the middle of the courtyard, he gestured to one of the bodies in the wheelbarrow. "Is this one of your group? Kid was shot, not bit."

Although spoken with a deadpan expression that bordered on insensitive, Nicholas' words gained the attention of everyone. There was silence around the courtyard, everyone motionless until Rick hesitantly approached the wheelbarrow, steeling himself for what he would find. The corpse was in pretty decent shape, decomposition having slowed when the body reanimated. Rick crouched down and brushed his hand through the Walker's curly hair, revealing the face.

"Yeah, he's ours," he stated, clenching his jaw. "Luke."

Daryl started forward sharply, and he looked at the corpse with an unsettled expression. There was a long moment where everyone stared, but no one did anything, just waiting to see what would happen. When Daryl turned around and stalked off, he was scowling, muttering to himself as he lit what had to be his sixth cigarette since arriving at the prison. He suddenly lashed out, kicking a metal canister as he walked past. As the metal clanged and echoed, Rick simply hauled the body into his arms, not looking at the way the head and limbs lolled about. Without a word, he carried the child over to the small pile of bodies reserved for burial, laying him down by another child that had been killed and reanimated. There was still more work to do, more horrible moments to face, and the whole group set back to work with the exception of Daryl, who retreated into C Block for a little while.

Looking around the courtyard now, Carrie looked at the twelve bodies that had been carefully wrapped in white sheets. Four men, five women and two children who had lived here at the prison and died in the attack. They would be buried tomorrow, the fading light not leaving enough time to dig their graves. Only one grave had been dug that day, Rick and Glenn having tirelessly worked to have it ready. Herschel, one of their immediate family, had been executed in the attack that saw the prison fall, and his body had remained unburied for two months. Feeling the pang of sadness for the others, Carrie recalled Glenn's grief. He had departed the group, determined that he would bury his father in law himself. He had only made it halfway down to his body before he changed his mind, returning to the courtyard and tearfully asking Rick for help.

"This must have been insane," Carrie commented to Michonne. She looked up at the enormous green tank, the name Lil' Louie painted in cursive on the side.

"It was," Michonne agreed. Standing in the back of the truck, she passed Carrie down a large box of supplies they would require over the next few days at the prison. "We lost a lot of people…"

"Yeah."

"We thought we'd lost Judith…Rick's daughter."

"Oh?"

Michonne nodded, jumping down from the truck and helping carry the heavy plastic tubs past the tank and into the courtyard. "After, when he and I caught up with each other…she wasn't with him. I didn't need to ask."

"But she survived, right?" Carrie enquired, gratefully passing the heavy tub over when Tobin offered to take it off her hands. "Thanks…she's back at your camp, with Carol?"

"Yeah, she survived," Michonne smiled, passing her tub to Spencer. "Tyreese had her all along. We lost him later…"

At this, Carrie glanced down at the lower field, where Rick and Carl sat by one of the graves. It must be Lori's grave, she thought to herself sadly. "I'm sorry," she said softly, grateful that Michonne seemed to pause for a short break.

Michonne continued as though nothing had been said. "Thanks for your help today. You did well."

Carrie laughed uncomfortably. "Everyone keeps thanking me…first Rick, then the others. Now you."

"Why shouldn't we? You helped us…"

"No," Carrie rebuked her. "You helped me."

She nodded. "We have that annoying habit."

Carrie laughed properly now, enjoying the feeling. "Well, I'm grateful to your annoying habits," she smiled, stretching out her arms. "I wasn't so sure at first that I'd be safe with strangers…To be honest, I'm more afraid of people than I am of Walkers."

Michonne peered at her curiously. "Us too. When Aaron first made contact with us, Rick knocked him out cold."

"He what?" she said in disbelief, her jaw gaping. "Aaron?"

"That's right."

"But Aaron…he's so nice…"

"Didn't seem that way after going through what we did. Rick had already reached breaking point," she explained. "I'm surprised he's let his guard down so much with you."

"He has?"

"Yeah," Michonne nodded, her expression making Carrie think that there was some kind of secret she wasn't privy to. "He has."

"Right," she said awkwardly, remembering that moment earlier when she and Rick had been talking. Was that what Michonne was referring to? At first Rick's conversations with her and around her seemed restrained, and he was clearly being careful about what he said. That had slowly changed though. For the last two days at least, he didn't seem like someone who mistrusted her as much as he originally had. Still pondering this, Carrie grimaced, twisting her torso around and trying to relieve some of the discomfort in her spine.

"Sore?"

"Yeah. Today's taken a lot out of me." With a long sigh, she relaxed her body, looking back to the truck on the other side of the tank. There was still plenty more work to do. "I really do miss my yoga class."

There was a short pause, Michonne looking at her with her head tilted to the side. "You know," she began slowly. "I have a yoga mat here…"

"You do?" she asked, this information arousing her interest.

"Ah huh…and I know Sasha and Karen both had one too…"

"Oh," she grinned, Michonne doing the same thing a moment later.

"What do you say?" Michonne said, nudging her shoulder with hers. "Shall we finish up here, and then go find them?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Carrie nodded her head eagerly. "I can't think of anything better."

* * *

Trying to clean himself up after a long day, Rick shivered under the frigid water of the shower, wishing he had been patient enough to wait for water to boil. But Carl had been itching for a shower, no doubt needing to go to bed early that night. They were both beginning to regret their haste, and in the shower stall to Rick's left, Carl was cursing at how cold the water was. Through the plastic sheets that allowed a small amount of privacy, Rick could just make out Carl's outline. He found himself constantly looking over to make sure that he was alright, that he was still standing.

"We really should have boiled some water," Carl grumbled, bearing all his weight on his good leg as he soaped up his hair. He shivered hard, his only reprieve being that the prison bathrooms were relatively warm. A room without windows or external facing walls, it was always a few degrees warmer in there than anywhere else. Carl groaned again, the water streaming from the shower slowing to a stop. "Daryl…"

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl grumbled, moving around behind the makeshift shower stalls.

He began working the handle of their water pump, building enough pressure that the water began to run again. With Carl not mobile enough to work the water pump himself, Daryl had accompanied them to the showers. Rick was worried about him, only mildly surprised by his angry reaction to the discovery of Luke's body, one of the children who had come from Woodbury. Much like he had with Carl when he was younger, Daryl hadn't taken much liking to Luke or the other children, even though Luke seemed to idolise him. To the eight year old, Daryl was the epitome of cool, one of the stronger group members who protected and provided for them. But Daryl hadn't given him the time of day, always unsure of how to interact with children he didn't know. It wasn't personal…it had taken him a while to warm up to Carl too.

Trying to distract himself, Rick took some of the liquid soap Carol had packed for them. It was always surprising how much dirt and grime came running off during their showers, especially after taking on the volume of Walkers they had that day. By the time they had given up counting, they had surpassed a hundred scattered throughout the prison. He used his fingernails to scrub the dried sweat and guts from his skin, flinching as he aggravated his many bruises. The clothing they had worn should have protected him from such filth, but in the aftermath a few Walkers had taken them by surprise in the lower field, wandering through the broken fence as he and Carl sat by Lori's grave. Looking at the dried blood on his arms, Rick suddenly thought of Carrie.

She had covered herself in Walker guts for survival, smearing the rotting flesh over her clothing, across her skin…even through her hair. Rick's stomach turned as he thought of the first time he and Glenn had done that in Atlanta, remembering how disgusted they had been. He couldn't imagine how awful it must felt to pick up a handful of rotting innards and smear it over his skin, to wear it like a shield for months on end. It was no wonder that Aaron and Aidan had driven right past Carrie, unwilling to pick her up. But her transformation had been amazing. When he requested she clean herself up, Rick and Daryl had turned their backs on a woman who blended perfectly with the Walkers. When they turned around, they found someone surprisingly normal…an actual human being like them.

Disliking the feminine scent of the shampoo Carol had packed them, Rick washed his hair and let the suds rinse out, stopping only to work the handle on the water pump so that he could finish up. Remembering the days of clean shaven Sheriff Grimes, he used his fingers to pull out the knots. It was starting to curl again, and it made him remember the first and only time he had let Beth cut his hair for him. That girl had many talents, but cutting hair was not one. Trying to remove as much water as he could, he questioned whether it had only been a month since arriving at Alexandria when Jessie had cut it.

"Are you nearly done, Carl?" he asked, draping a towel around his waist and heading over to the benches.

"Nearly," he answered.

"You'd be done by now if you didn't have such long hair, Carlene," Daryl teased. "Can I braid it tonight?"

"I let Jessie cut it," he retorted, no doubt remembering the day when Rick had threatened to cut it while he slept. "It's not as long as yours."

"Mine ain't 'igh maintenance."

Halfway dressed, Rick ran the towel over his hair and sorted through the rest of the clothing Carl had stuffed into a bag for them. Shining his flashlight, he looked for a shirt with growing annoyance.

"Carl," he groaned. "You got me a clean shirt, right?"

"Yeah."

"Where is it?"

"It's…it should be there," he said uncertainly.

"Well, it's not," Rick sighed, still looking. He cursed under his breath, realising what Carl had done. "Carl…you took two of your shirts."

"Oh…sorry Dad," he apologised meekly. "Can I have my towel, please?"

Touched by how concerned he was, Rick passed him a towel and then slung his own over his shoulders to keep him warm. Putting on his used shirt would be a mistake. It was so dirty even Daryl would turn his nose up at it, and that was saying something. He hovered outside the shower curtain, passing Carl his clothing and then helping him dress as requested. As Carl hobbled over to the benches using Herschel's old crutches, Rick stayed close by and fastened his watch around his wrist. Adjusting his wedding ring, he dried the skin underneath, a process he went through every day without even noticing. Looking at it now, he turned it round and round, thinking about that afternoon when he and Carl had gone down to visit Lori's grave.

He would never be able to tell Carl that his mother wasn't really buried there. The lie had been manufactured by Daryl, who in Rick's absence had comforted Carl. Rick had never voiced the horrible truth that there was nothing left of Lori to bury, but Daryl must have figured it out at some stage. He took Carl down to the graves Glenn had dug, and told him they had buried Lori there during the night. Carl had never questioned Daryl's story, and as far as Rick could tell he truly believed his mother's body had the dignity of burial. He hated the lie almost as much as he hated that it had been Daryl who told it, not him. The days following Lori's death, Rick had not acted as the father he claimed to be. Lost in his own grief, he hadn't considered Carl's…the thought that he had been the one to shoot Lori to prevent reanimation, that he had been there during the birth without his father…the impact of that had been too difficult for him to face. But he should have…he should have shouldered that burden for his son.

"What's wrong?" Carl asked, looking at Rick as he dressed.

Rick raised his eyebrows. Since when had Carl become so perceptive? "Aside from the fact that I don't have a shirt?"

"Sorry," Carl apologised again, though he sounded a little more concerned this time.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall outside the bathroom, quickly followed by soft laughter. The sounds grew closer, as did the sound of something on wheels.

"Hurry up, you lot," Rosita called out to them, slapping her hand on the door.

Shaking his head, Daryl stalked off towards them. "'eff off," he told Rosita. "We're busy."

"Daryl," came Michonne's exasperated voice. "Aren't you done yet?"

"No, I ain't. I need t' shave my legs."

"We're done," Rick reassured them, shaking his head at Daryl. "Ignore him."

Carrying their used towels and bag full of dirty clothing, Rick emerged from the bathroom with Carl following behind. Rosita, Michonne and Carrie were waiting in the hallway, accompanied by an enormous pot of boiled water they had transported on one of the cafeteria trolleys. Clearly they had thought ahead, and were planning on enjoying a nice hot shower to reward their long day of work.

"Rick," Rosita began, looking him up and down with a smirk. "What's with the…"

Glancing down, he remembered that he was wasn't wearing a shirt. "Carl," he explained in embarrassment, adjusting the towel he had slung over his shoulder.

He was suddenly very aware of the three of them, Carrie in particular. While members of their group were used to seeing each other in various states of undress, what with the lack of privacy when living in a prison or on the road, Carrie was not. She looked at him now, a smile playing on her mouth as she cast her eyes over his torso. In a rush of further embarrassment, he remembered their awkward encounter only an hour or so ago, when he and Carl had walked up to the prison from the lower fields.

Having spent over an hour sitting together at Lori and Herschel's graves, he and Carl had retrieved the vegetables that they would be eating over the next few days before heading up. He had known that Carrie and Michonne were unpacking the truck for them, having watched their progress with mild interest from his spot down by Lori's grave. And while he knew they were long finished with that task, the last thing he expected to find was the two of them in the courtyard along with Rosita, doing…whatever it was they were doing.

It had been completely unexpected. Without expecting anything unusual, Carl and Rick had casually walked past the tank and begun crossing the courtyard, approaching the three women from behind. He had stopped in his tracks when he saw them, his jaw dropping in surprise. Rosita, Michonne and Carrie were side by side, each of them with a colourful mat upon which they were…stretching. Rick had gulped, feeling his heart hammering as he watched Carrie slowly moving into a new position, one which put her ass right in the air.

Yoga…Rick's scrambled thoughts managed to piece together what they were doing, but further than that he lacked the ability to think much more.

She had changed her clothing, that much he had been able to process, and she now wore a tank top and mid length black pants…skin tight. Unable to help himself, Rick let his eyes rove all over her body, taking in her long legs and her round…Jesus Christ, he couldn't keep thinking like this. He had to stop. But even as this thought occurred to him, he didn't look away. Suddenly the three women were laughing hysterically. Rosita had lost her balance and fallen, knocking over Michonne next to her. He frowned, watching as Carrie sat on her knees and turned to smile at the others, telling them to hurry up and get back into position.

"Like father, like son," Daryl had mocked, walking past them with his crossbow over his shoulder.

Suddenly realising exactly where he was, Rick looked down and remembered Carl was with him, he too staring at the three women in astonishment. Nodding when Daryl said he was going hunting, Rick nudged Carl and told him to get moving, trying to ignore the embarrassment he felt at being caught. Readjusting the bag of fresh food over his shoulder, he followed his son and walked towards C Block. But Rick was unable to help himself, and he glanced over his shoulder at the three women. They were back at it now, but this time it was their fronts they were stretching up in the air. His lips parting again, he noticed that Carrie's tank top gaped at the front, revealing a clear line of sight down her front. To make matters even worse, she caught him looking, her cheeks flushing as she bowed her head with a short laugh.

"Come on," Rick prompted Carl now, not knowing what else to say. He felt annoyingly tongue tied…again.

Carrie gave him a brief smile, casting her eyes over him one more time before politely looking away. Feeling his heart hammering once again, Rick ignored the whole lot of them as he followed Carl down the dark hallway, letting Daryl light their way with the flashlight. At the last minute Rick looked over his shoulder, and by the light of Rosita's flashlight he looked at Carrie. She had her back to him as she pushed the trolley into the bathroom, giving Rick ample opportunity to rake his eyes up and down her body again. She was still wearing the tank top and skin tight leggings. In one horrifying moment Carrie turned and looked over her shoulder, catching him gawking at her for the second time that day. He turned away quickly, praying that the dim light of the halls meant she didn't actually see him. The burst of laughter from Rosita and Michonne however, said otherwise.

"What are they laughing at?" Carl enquired.

"You're old man without a shirt," Daryl teased Rick could answer.

Rick sighed, looking at Daryl when they came back into the common room. He was waiting for the teasing, for the quiet remarks under his breath about how Rick had the hots for the new girl. But as he had promised the other day, Daryl said nothing of the sort, honouring Rick's request.

"You're sleeping in my cell tonight," Rick told Carl, dumping their blood stained clothes into the growing pile by the long table. They would need to be soaked over night and then scrubbed in the morning. The stains would never come out, but they'd be wearable.

"Why?"

"So I can keep an eye on you during the night."

Carl huffed, but accepted his instructions. "Fine."

Nearly ready to call it a day, he pulled back the blanket that covered his cell. Aside from Glenn's quick rummage in the aftermath of the attack, it had been entirely untouched in his two month absence. Judith's crib and her toys were exactly as he had left them, as were Rick's few possessions. In the set of drawers, Lori's hairbrush and spare change of clothes were neatly folded, as were their family photo albums. Once they had settled into the prison, Maggie, Glenn and Daryl had gone on a run back to the Greene family farm, and had been lucky enough to find some of their personal items, including Sophia's doll. Remembering this, Rick reminded himself to make sure it was packed in Carol's possessions.

"Put something on your feet," Rick instructed next, noticing Carl wasn't wearing shoes. "It's cold."

"Yes, Mom," he rolled his eyes.

"You think that upsets me," he smiled, glancing at Lori's drawer. "But sometimes, Mom was right."

Carl gasped in mock horror. "Take that back!"

"I said sometimes," he conceded, watching as Carl looked into Judith's old crib. "I'll get your pillow for you."

Getting themselves organised for the night, Rick brought Carl's bedding in and arranged it on the lower bunk, moving his own up to the top. Knowing there was still work to be done, Rick made sure Carl got settled onto one of the couches in the common room before departing for their old laundry room. Despite knowing the tombs were well secured, there was still a certain air of danger when walking through there at night. He shone his flashlight on the oil lamps and candles they had fixed to the walls the previous year, their small flames had been just enough to light the narrow halls as needed. Reaching the laundry, he double checked it's safety before entering, even though he had personally cleared this room a few hours ago. Their supplies were well organised, and would likely be cleared out the following morning, but he still found difficulty in determining exactly what he needed. In this instance, he was the worst stereotype…he had no idea what the difference was between the various detergents that were so carefully arranged, and so selected two at random.

Returning to C Block by a different route, Rick passed by the bathrooms, feeling the need to check on the three women there. He was being paranoid, he knew that, but what if the worst did happen? What if there was a lone Walker, just wandering the halls undetected? Things changed so quickly in this world. Patrick's death in the middle of the night had resulted in a blood bath, one which they would not quickly forget. Approaching the bathrooms, Rick was relieved to hear only the sound of casual chatter and the occasional burst of laughter. Rosita and Michonne had both made an effort to befriend Carrie, to make her feel safe and welcome in the group. The sound of laughter was one not often heard on the road, and it was a pleasant change.

He slowed to a stop outside the door, frowning when he thought he heard his name. It was difficult to hear the conversation over the running water from the showers, but he hesitated anyway, certain of what he had heard. The running water died down a little, two of the showers running dry until they were pumped up again.

"…can't imagine that, I honestly can't," Carrie insisted.

"Well, the way it is now is how it was when I first met him," Michonne's voice came next. "But by the time we got to Aaron's camp in January, that beard was…"

"Fierce," Rosita supplied.

Rick cringed, realising they were indeed talking about him.

"When he shaved," Michonne continued. "I didn't recognise him for a moment. Judith didn't either."

"She cried," Rosita added breathlessly, working at the pump.

The water started again, drowning out their conversation. Just as Rick was going to head off again, Carrie spoke up once more.

"…-tractive…isn't he…"

After a long pause, Rosita replied. "I'd bounce a quarter off him."

There was another burst of laughter now, their conversation making Rick extremely grateful that he was alone right now. Quickly heading off, he put every thought of Carrie far out of his mind, remembering what he had told Daryl. It was a stupid crush, an attraction to another person that was perfectly normal. Nevertheless, he didn't want anything from her…it would blow over soon enough.

He returned from C Block, pleased to see that the others had fussed over Carl during his absence. He still remained on the couch, but someone had given him a blanket, comic book and a mug of hot cocoa, fussing that Carl looked more than pleased with. Looking forward to the meal Aaron was preparing, Rick gathered the large pile of clothing and carried it outside with Glenn's help. Working together the two of them gathered some of the plastic tubs and filled them with water, using the moonlight to sort through the dirtiest clothing from the cleanest.

Spraying the blood stains with pre-soaker, Rick thought about their plans for the following few days. Their supply run was carefully planned, various targets well ingrained in everyone's minds. Aside from clearing out anything they could take from the prison, a visit to King County was the first priority. It had been almost a year since Rick had seen Morgan, and although he may or may not still be alive, there was still an arsenal of weapons in the apartment he had occupied. That could not be overlooked.

"It's been a good day," Glenn commented, scrubbing a shirt.

Rick looked up in surprise. Given the agonising task of burying Herschel's body the two of them had undertaken, he was surprised by such optimism. But then again, Glenn was always a glass half full kind of man.

"I guess," he agreed.

"We started out with twelve people…we finished with twelve people," Glenn said, making his point. "That's a good day."

With that notion they continued their work, content to go about it in comfortable silence. As time wore on, they scrubbed and scrubbed at the blood stains, murky water streaming off the material. Rinsing them as best they could, they threw them into another tub to soak properly over night, Rick pouring in some detergent and swishing it around.

"We'll need to clear the hoses," he commented now, looking through the darkness to where the stream ran outside the prison fences. "Carl and I tried the pump earlier, it's all clogged."

"We'll get to it."

"We were thinking of trying to take some of the plants to Alexandria...maybe get a better sized garden growing."

Nodding, Glenn put his hands in his pockets and assessed their work. Frowning a little, he turned to Rick. "You never refer to it as home. Alexandria, I mean."

This comment took Rick by surprise. "I didn't notice."

"Carl must have. He doesn't call it home either."

Rick understood what Glenn was trying to say. "I guess it doesn't seem like home…not yet, at least." Abandoning the laundry, Rick wandered over towards the fences below the closest guard tower, looking across the lower fields. "You know…I'd take the cold showers here over the hot showers in Alexandria, any day."

There was a short pause before Glenn laughed bitterly. "Me too."

"What's wrong with us?" Rick pondered aloud, linking his fingers through the wire fence. "We'd rather live in a prison than in an actual house."

"Life was good here," Glenn reminded him. "Even with all the problems…Walkers on the fences, doing runs every week."

"No hot water, no electricity, no privacy."

"Even then, life was good."

Nodding his head, Rick agreed. "I miss Beth," he confessed, thinking about the young woman who brought such infectious joy to the prison. They hadn't allowed themselves much time to grieve for her, her death coming without warning. Being back there in the prison made her absence all the more real, the unfairness of her death even more stark. Though they had lost Bob and Tyreese around the same time, Beth's death had been the final blow for their group, her safe return snatched from them at the last second. Dealing with her absence had been a strange transition for the group to make…Daryl didn't talk about her at all.

Glenn sighed, looking out across the field below. "We can always come back."

Rick looked up at him now, raising his eyebrows. "No. We can't."

"But if we had to…we could. If Alexandria fell…if it wasn't safe there anymore. We made it to the prison this time. We can come back here again."

Not saying anything now, Rick looked around. The moonlight shone on the damage acquired by in the attack, the tank still sitting where it had been abandoned. Glenn was right…they could make it a home again if they needed to. But for now they had to focus on returning to Alexandria…he had to start referring to it as home, at least for Carl's sake. They had to settle in properly…it still felt like playing pretend.

"I hate being back here," Rick admitted quietly, dragging his hand down the fence and back into his pocket.

"Why?"

Scratching the back of his neck, Rick considered his answer. "Because I don't want to leave."

"Me either," Glenn nodded. "Rick…when are we taking over?"

"Alexandria?" he clarified, worried that Glenn was aware of the understanding with Carol and Daryl. Sighing, he looked away when he answered. "When we need to."

"When will that be?"

"When they can't defend it anymore."

"They already can't," Glenn commented darkly.

Rick sighed, drawing on his patience. "For now, we leave things as they are. The longer Deanna thinks she's still in charge, the longer we have to build their trust."

Accepting this, Glenn gave a short nod. "Come on," he prompted. "We should get inside."

Together they returned to the common room, passing a freshly showered Rosita who carried their dirty clothing outside. Remembering the conversation he had over heard, Rick avoided meeting her eye in embarrassment. Returning to C Block, he helped disperse plates of whatever Aaron had prepared, pleased to see some of the vegetables he and Carl had retrieved that day. The group ate, comfortable conversation flowing. But unlike the others, the original prison residents struggled to relax, uncomfortably aware of how displaced they felt. As much as Rick didn't want to leave…he didn't want to stay either.

Making sure Carl had enough to eat, Rick accompanied him back to the bathrooms to brush his teeth, secretly enjoying the opportunity to fuss over him and remind him of such simple chores. It brought a comfortable sense of normality, of routine. It was the same with Judith. Although he occasionally griped that he had other things to do, Rick enjoyed the routines his daughter required, the evenings in particular. Dinner, bath, cuddle and then bed…he had loved the routine when Carl was a baby, and he loved with Judith, although perhaps he appreciated it a little more.

"What are you doing?" Carl questioned. Getting comfortable in the bottom bunk of Rick's cell, he watched as Rick sat down on the floor beside him. He had checked the wounds on his leg and replaced the dressings, seeing that they had scabbed over properly. Reassured that Carl was doing well, Rick dispensed his antibiotic and a pain killer, but then lingered unnecessarily.

"I'm waiting for you to fall asleep."

"Dad," he groaned, screwing up his face. "I'm not a baby."

"I know," he nodded, resting his elbow on the mattress.

"Then why are-"

"Because I want to."

Rolling his eyes, Carl continued. "I'm not afraid of the dark," he muttered, turning off the flashlight.

Rick cracked a smile at this, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Maybe I am."

Carl glared at Rick, his face softening a moment later. "Dad, is something wrong?"

He nodded slowly, buying himself some time. The words he wanted to say were right on the tip of his tongue, but for Carl's sake he needed to filter them. "I hate being back here…I want to go home," he said grimly. It was both the truth and a lie, but Glenn's comments about the way he never called Alexandria home made it necessary.

Through the darkness came a soft sigh. "Me too," Carl admitted. There was silence, both of them waiting for the other to say something. "Fine," he huffed, fluffing up his pillow and resting his head. Reaching out, he fumbled on the mattress to find Rick's hand, taking it in his smaller one."You can stay…But don't think we're cuddling."

"I love you," Rick told him, never wanting him to forget it.

"You too," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

In minutes he was asleep, his body exhausted from their days of travelling and his injury. Rick stayed for as long as he wished, listening as everyone else in the common room bustled around to clean up after their meal, the occasional voice echoing down past the cells. Content to stay, he slipped his hand out from beneath Carl's and stroked it through his hair instead. He was growing up far too quickly. Aside from his developing level of maturity, he was steadily approaching his fifteenth birthday. Rick was going to have a fifteen year old son…and a baby. Two years ago if someone had told him he and Lori would have another baby, he would have laughed at them…they were done after having Carl, content with their one and only child. But now, given where they were and what they were doing, the idea of being a father of two wasn't the craziest thing he had ever heard.

"Rick."

The quiet voice came from outside the cell, and he looked round as the blanket was slowly pulled back. Michonne peered in and silently gestured for him to come out, and he gave her a short nod before brushing Carl's hair off his face one more time and kissing the crown of his head. Carl would never let him do that if he was awake, so he took the opportunity when he could. He remembered a time long ago when he could do that without Carl's protest. He would come home after an evening shift at work and kiss the crown of his son's head while he slept, wishing he had been there that evening. More often than not, he would remove the flashlight and comic book still hidden beneath the blankets, just like he still did these days.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, suspecting Michonne needed him for something.

"I need you out here," she whispered, the two of them heading for the common room. "Aidan and Nicholas are bringing in alcohol…I didn't know that had any."

Rick nodded, annoyed by the two Alexandrian's. "Do you think they would have made it back if they did this supply run on their own, like they wanted to?"

"Not a chance."

* * *

As soon as they were finished cleaning up from dinner, Carrie practically dove for the couch where Carl had been situated. Holding her tea, she settled herself under his blanket and got comfortable for the rest of the evening. When night fell, the prison interior only got colder, the concrete walls and floors doing little in the way of proper insulation. The shower she had taken earlier had warmed her well enough, giving her ample opportunity to wash and condition her hair, to properly clean herself up under running water. But the hot water ran out soon enough, their showers turning icy cold. Since then Carrie had struggled to warm up adequately, hampered also by her long, wet hair.

Glenn had given her a jacket to wear, one that belonged to his wife Maggie. He assured her that Maggie wouldn't mind, that their group so frequently shared clothing as needed that nothing really belonged solely to anyone. Although she appreciated his generosity, she had been secretly reluctant to give Rick back his jacket. Too large on her frame, it had kept her warmer than she had felt in months, the long sleeves and hem keeping her hands and hips toasty. Getting comfortable on the couch Carrie took off her boots, still on loan from Rosita, and tucked her feet up underneath her. The hand stitched blanket was warm as she pulled it across her lap, shivering a little. Clutching her mug of tea, Carrie blew on it softly, daring to take a sip of the hot liquid.

"Where did Rick get to?" Aidan enquired tentatively, looking into the cell block. He glanced at Carrie as he spoke next. "We've got some red wine and Johnny in the truck…need to get it opened before he shuts us down."

"It's fine," Nicholas said eagerly. "He's tucking Carl into bed…reading him a story."

The tone of Nicholas' voice wasn't a mere jest, but mockery. It had everyone's attention in an instant, and while Carrie just raised her eyebrows, it was clear Glenn's hackles were raised. There was a long pause in which everyone looked at Nicholas, a myriad of things being communicated in silence. From the corner of her eye, she saw Michonne making a discreet disappearance.

"What was that?" Glenn asked incredulously, his eyes narrowed. In the process of making coffees, he put down the bottle of long life milk.

Aidan hesitated before making a quick departure for the truck outside, leaving Nicholas to answer, "Come on, the kid's fourteen. He doesn't need to be tucked in."

"Carl could have been killed yesterday," Glenn said, quickly angering. "Killed by friendly fire. Show a little sensitivity."

Nicholas scoffed. "If Rick's so concerned about his kid, he shouldn't have let him come. He did bring that on himself."

Well provoked, Glenn started towards Nicholas with a filthy look on his face, stopped only by Aaron who quickly leapt up from his seat at the table. Intervening, he stepped in front of Glenn and put his hand on his shoulder, looking between he and Nicholas.

"Stop," he said firmly. "We're all tired, and emoti-"

"Don't ever question Rick," Glenn said furiously, his first display of anger Carrie had seen from him. "Especially not when you're under the roof he provided."

"You're just pissed 'cos I'm right."

"No, I'm pissed beca-"

"Enough," Rick intervened, suddenly appearing in the common room. His voice was soft but firm, cutting the argument off without difficulty. He didn't need to raise his voice and shout…his authority clear enough already. Michonne stood behind him, confirming Carrie's suspicion she had gone to find him. "Enough," he repeated when it looked like Glenn might argue.

There was an awkward pause, everyone standing stock still and not daring to move. His expression still furious, Glenn turned on his heel and stalked out of the common room, leaving the argument in his wake. An awkward silence lingered, Aaron muttering something to Nicholas in exasperation. Relieved that it was over, Carrie was unsurprised by how quickly an insensitive comment had escalated, an argument developing in the blink of an eye. Rick and his group had returned to the home they had built for themselves, the home that was forcibly taken from them. And soon they had to leave again…it was no wonder Glenn had angered so quickly. It had been a long day for everyone, but for the original prison residents in particular. Daryl hadn't been seen since he had returned from the showers. No one questioned where he was or how long he would be, perhaps knowing him well enough to not bother.

At that moment, Aidan returned from outside, a large box in his arms as the heavy door slammed shut behind him. Looking at the scene, everyone standing around tense, his shoulders dropped as he descended the stairs.

"That's a no, then?" he asked Rick, using his chin to gesture to the bottles of wine and whiskey.

"That's a no," he confirmed, giving a long sigh. As Aidan reluctantly put the box down in the corner, Rick continued, sounding apologetic. "While I appreciate the sentiment of a celebratory drink, the prison is not secure. The fences are down, we're still very exposed. The only thing stopping Walkers coming into the courtyard is two cars parked up against the tank."

"Right," Aidan said in disappointment. Looking at the scene, he noted Glenn's absence and the tension, but was smart enough to not ask about it.

"Tomorrow at first light," Rick began, wearily taking a seat at one of the round tables. "The priority is to secure the fences. We'll be here a few days, we can't run the risk of letting Walkers into the lower field. We can carry the wooden spikes and block off the fallen fences. It'll take most of us to carry them, and we'll be exposed when we do. We also need to move those cars down there, use them to help block the fences. Tobin? You and Daryl need to strip them for parts, and then see about getting the Hyundai running. Maybe change the tyres on the cars we're taking back. If he's well enough, I'll have Carl help you. I'd like him to learn a few things."

Tobin nodded in agreement. "That's fine with me."

"We also need to do a run for gas," he continued, looking to Abraham next. "We can start running the generators, get the cell block warmed up. We might as well if we're going to be here a few days. There're a couple of gas stations that should still be plentiful…we depended on them while we were here."

"What else?" Michonne asked.

"We've got some more graves to dig, bodies to burn…we ran out of daylight today faster than expected. Then we'll clear the prison, take anything we can use. We need to try and salvage some of the plants from the gardens, take them back with us…then there're the guns. They'll all need cleaning, and we'll need to take stock of them and the ammunition. Carl can work on that too. Then we need to clear the hoses in the creek outside the fences…we need a water supply while we're here."

"That'll probably take us a couple of days," Abraham commented. "That's a lot of work. A lot of packing…then there's the cell blocks too. You'll want to do them yourselves, I'm sure."

"Yes, we'll do the cell blocks," Rick confirmed. He didn't need to clarify who we referred to. "And I was hoping we could get it done in one day. The longer we're here, the more attention from Walkers we're attracting, we can't afford for them to build up. Plus we also have to get to King County. We can do that the day after tomorrow, but it's a priority. It's a three hour drive, so we'll need to set aside the whole day."

"What about the Big Spot?" Aidan enquired. "I know you said it's got a helicopter in there, but there're still things we can salvage."

Rick nodded, although he looked reluctant to agree. "When we do a gas run tomorrow, we should drive past it, check out it's condition. If it's safe, we'll go there the day after King County. As for tomorrow though…if we get all of that done and the fences secured, then we can have a drink. Hell, I'll even have one."

A short chorus of laughter echoed around the common room, Aidan nodding in approval. "You'll have two."

The bout of tension from before eased, and although he had likely overheard what Nicholas said, Rick seemed mature enough to ignore it. The brief argument only served to reenforce the dynamic of two separate groups Carrie had picked up on, and though they were trying to get on, perhaps cracks were beginning to show. The group broke into comfortable chatter now, discussing the sheer volume of work they needed to accomplish tomorrow. If they wanted to achieve it all, they would have to work from first to last light. Dwelling on that, Carrie was just thinking about heading to the cell Glenn had allocated to her and go to sleep, but Aaron caught her eye.

He approached her with an A5 envelope in his hands, giving her a tentative smile. "Do you mind if I take a seat?" he asked, gesturing to the spot beside her.

"Not at all," she smiled, curious about the envelope. Sitting up a little, she pulled the blanket back and let him take a seat. "Blanket?"

"God, yes," he sighed, gratefully pulling it across his lap.

Though she hadn't quite warmed to some of the others yet, Carrie found she didn't mind Aaron one bit, liking his reassuring smile and kind heart. As she waited for him to get comfortable, she looked at the envelope in his hands, suspecting he had brought it to show her something. Ever perceptive, Aaron handed it to her.

"Take a look," he prompted.

Setting her mug of tea aside, Carrie eagerly opened the envelope and looked inside. She tipped the contents out onto her lap, astounded to find an array of photographs. They were poorly developed, although the smaller square ones were of better quality, likely from a instant camera. Unsure of which one to look at first, she gathered the larger photos into a bundle and looked at them. A few houses….some solar panels…a wall.

"Is this your camp?"

Aaron nodded. "This is Alexandria. It's about an hour south of Washington."

"DC?"

"That's right."

"You've come all the way from DC?"

"Yes," he confirmed, peering over at the photographs. "Alexandria isn't very big…only sixty people including Rick and his group. It's a couple of streets of a new housing suburb…we've got our own water supply, solar electricity…we're largely self-reliant."

"That's….lucky."

"A fair observation."

"And these are your people?" she enquired, looking at the smaller polaroids.

"Yes…This is Reg and Deanna."

Letting Aaron narrate, Carrie slowly flicked through the half dozen polaroids, observing an array of faces she didn't know. It was overwhelming to say the least, the notion that these people lived in relative comfort and safety difficult to digest. And she was going there too…they were taking her back with them. She would live with these people, in a house with electricity and running water…with medical care. It was a difficult concept to digest.

"Rick and Carl," she smiled, looking at the photograph of them. They sure looked different from now, both of them well dressed and smiling. She glanced up at Rick, surprised to find him looking at her too. As though embarrassed, he hastily looked away.

"And this is Maggie with Judith."

"Awww," she smiled, looking at the baby the unknown woman held. Wearing a lovely dress and a pink headband, the baby looked well loved and cared for, despite the difficulty of her first year. She was asleep against Maggie's shoulder, her fingers clenched into the brunette hair.

"Judith is a minor celebrity in Alexandria. She's the only baby people have seen since the outbreak."

"I can imagine," she agreed, still looking at the photo. Moving on, she spent a few minutes looking through the rest of them, her eyes raking over the people and the pretty houses before handing them back. "Thanks, Aaron."

"No problem," he smiled, putting the photographs back into the envelope. "I'm glad I brought them with me…I wasn't planning on doing any recruiting, but you never know."

"No," she agreed absently, picking up her tea again.

It was lukewarm now, no longer serving it's purpose of warming her up. Nevertheless she drank it anyway, knowing better than to throw it away. Aaron soon departed and bade her goodnight, following a few of the others as they too went to bed. Deciding she approved of the idea, Carrie reluctantly got up from the warm couch and washed her mug in the soapy water left over from cleaning up their meal. Despite the coldness of the water, she cleaned the other mugs and spoons that had been left behind, drying her hands on one of the tea towels.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

Carrie whirled around, having thought she was alone. Rick's soft voice had taken her by surprise, and she saw him sitting at the table in plain view. Wondering how she hadn't noticed his lingering presence, she saw he was looking at the photographs Aaron had brought out.

"Yes," she agreed quietly. Taking her water bottle, she filled it up from the large canteen of drinking water they had brought in from the removal truck. Screwing the cap back on, she leant against a table and observed him. "I heard you punched Aaron when he first showed you those pictures."

Rick gave a short laugh, glancing up at her. "Yes. I did."

Looking at him in the dim light from the camping lantern, Carrie dwelled on the conversation she, Rosita and Michonne had that afternoon. Like teenage girls, they had indulged in a little innocent gossip as they showered, Carrie listening intently to anything the other women had to tell her about their group, Rick in particular. Still trying to picture him with the fierce beard she had heard about, Carrie let her eyes rake over his features. She had been pleasantly surprised when she came across him departing the showers without a shirt on. Prior to that she had known he was attractive…but she hadn't realised he was hot. Frankly she hadn't allowed herself to think anything along those lines, more concerned with establishing trust and deciding whether or not she felt completely safe with this group. Now that she had, she allowed herself to start noticing these things. The realisation that he was attractive had surprised her, coming completely out of nowhere.

But what had surprised her most was that she caught him looking at her twice that day, and not innocently either. It hadn't been her intention that he walk past during her impromptu yoga session, nor had it been her intention that she give him a clear line of sight down the front of her shirt. She had to admit though, it made her smile to see the way his eyes roved up and down her. It had been a long time since anyone trustworthy had looked at her that way, and it was a nice feeling. That evening while they showered, Michonne had mentioned that Rick might be nursing a crush, her words carefully thought out so as to gauge Carrie's reaction.

At Carrie's embarrassed request they changed the subject, but the work was done. They had put the thought into her head. Rick was looking at her often…perhaps they weren't necessarily glances of mistrust. She was tempted to engage him in conversation, to try and gauge just how well Michonne could read him, but she found she didn't know what to say. Cold and exhausted, she just wanted to go to bed.

"I might call it a night," she commented.

Rick hastily looked back down at the photographs. "Have you got everything you need? Pillow? Blankets?"

"Yes. Thank you. Glenn got me set up."

"Okay," he nodded. He looked up at her, but his expression was unreadable. "Good night."

"Good night."

She made it halfway through the gate to the cell block before he stopped her. At the sound of her name she stopped and turned around, seeing he was standing now. He hesitated, glancing up at the overhead walkway before he spoke again.

"The other night…you said you had a green thumb?"

Pursing her lips, she thought she better clarify. "I fancy myself to be a green thumb…but not one plant I owned ever survived. I was starting to think it was personal."

To her surprise, he cracked a smile at this, contrasting his earlier expressions of exasperation and weariness. "That's…good enough, I guess. Tomorrow would you like to help me in the gardens?"

Surprised again, Carrie raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to take that risk? I might be cursed."

He smiled. "I don't want Carl down in the lower field again, not while he's so vulnerable…and to be honest, I'm a little particular about who I let touch my cucumbers."

Remembering Daryl's sexual innuendo about Rick's massive cucumbers, Carrie let out a quick laugh, trying to stifle it as he realised what he said. His mouth twisted into a wry smile, and he put his hands on his hips as he shook his head to himself. "Well, I mean-"

"I get it," she reassured him. "I'd be very particular about my cucumbers too."

"You enjoying this?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Oh yeah," she smiled, forcing herself to sober. "I'll help you in the gardens…and I'll be kind to your cucumbers."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate a gentle touch."

Leaving him be, Carrie made a quick departure for his sake. "Goodnight, Rick."

"Here," he began, picking up the camping lantern and offering it to her. "Take this."

"Won't you need it?" she enquired. He just shook his head, gesturing for her to take it. "Thank you."

She left without another word, leaving him in the dark common room alone. Taking refuge in her cell, she was relieved to find it was surprisingly warmer than she expected. When Glenn had set her up that afternoon, he had strung up a heavy blanket across the bars, one that provided privacy and warmth. Nevertheless, her bed itself would be cold, and so she pulled on a second pair of socks and another shirt underneath Maggie's jacket. Curling up beneath her sleeping bag and a few additional blankets, Carrie got comfortable and then turned off the lantern.

Despite her exhaustion, it was difficult to turn her mind off, especially as she struggled to get properly warm. She lay there for a few minutes, listening to the soft echo of footsteps as someone walked down the cell block. Though she wasn't quite sure, she suspected it was Rick, checking on everyone before he too went to sleep. The footsteps grew closer and closer and then faded, disappearing completely. Ten minutes later they returned, reaffirming Carrie's suspicion that it was Rick checking on things. The cell block went silent again, Rick returning to his cell where Carl was already asleep.

Hoping she was adequately prepared for their enormous workload tomorrow, Carrie rolled over in her bed and wriggled her toes to warm them. Eventually she fell asleep, but not before replaying every conversation she and Rick had in recent days, wondering if there was indeed more to his polite conversation than met the eye.

* * *

A/N Sorry about the slow-slow-burn. I hope you're all hanging in there! Let me know what you think by leaving a review, and prompts are welcome :-) Thanks.


	13. Chapter 13

The common room of C Block was warm and filled with the delicious aroma of rosemary and bayleaves, welcoming its occupants to rest and relax after their long day. There was comfortable chatter, everyone gratefully taking a serving of the venison stew that had been slow cooking all afternoon. As usual, Rick stood back and waited until everyone else had been served, his eyes scanning the room and assessing the delicate dynamic between the two groups. So far things were going well at the prison, everyone pitching in without complaint to get the work completed.

They had risen at first light, the entire cell block waking as Daryl dragged his cigarette lighter against the bars of each cell. He made no apologies for his abrupt wake up call, rolling his eyes as Aidan growled at him in displeasure. The rude awakening served it's purpose though, even Carl getting up without being asked twice, although what he said under his breath could be considered excessive. There was a quick breakfast of oatmeal before the whole group got straight to work, Abraham taking charge and coordinating the priorities.

Wanting to make quick work of it, they gunned down the dozen or so Walkers that had wandered into the lower field during the night, the silencers on the rifle effective enough to not attract any more of them. Before disposing of the bodies, they tackled the first task of moving the large wooden spikes from outside the driveway to cover the fallen fences. It took all of them to move each one, their bodies straining under the enormous weight of the logs and spikes while Carl kept watch of the woods. Situating the two spiked logs, they concluded by stringing up some of the barbed wire as a final defence. The barbed wire and spikes were the last line of defence aside from the watch tower, and so far they had proven to be effective. Three Walkers who had managed to get through the wire had impaled themselves already.

The measures were safe enough for now, and the courtyard below was as safe as it was ever going to get until they figured out how to move the tank out of the way. It wasn't necessary though, given that they were only going to be there a few days. Nevertheless they were spending as little time outside as possible, knowing that the flurry of activity would attack hoards of Walkers. Originally the clusters of Walkers had only begun appearing when they built the gazebo and started the gardens, their activities drawing in the initial crowds. From then on it had been a domino effect, the Walkers following each other until they found their prey. Since the prison fell the Walkers had scattered and moved on to other areas of interest, and there was no sign yet that they would start clinging to the fences again.

Then they divided in two, Michonne and Glenn leading a group out of the prison and to the nearby gas station, getting all of the vehicles gassed up. Having vehicles the vehicles ready to go at all times was a reassurance, a practicality that would serve them well if they had to leave the prison at the last minute. The gas tank of the Woodbury bus had always been full for this reason, and at the time they needed it, it served them well. While the others went for gas, Daryl, Tobin and Carl had taken on the task of stripping the unneeded cars for parts, while Carrie and Rick donned gloves and headed for the gardens.

Not for the first time, Rick found himself wishing that Herschel was still by his side, offering his wisdom and knowledge. Though the gardens were in good condition considering their lack of care, Rick wondered how well they would survive transportation to Alexandria, how well they would like being potted up. Herschel on the other hand…he would know exactly what to do. Everything Rick did that day was based on gut instinct and on the gardening book Herschel had found in the prison library so many months ago.

A loud clatter caught Rick's attention, and he squinted up at the courtyard. In the distance he observed Daryl and Carl, who appeared to be in the middle of a heated argument, while Tobin hovered awkwardly to the side. There were some wild hand movements, Carl gesturing to the engine of the car on which they were working. Daryl put his head back, no doubt groaning or swearing in exasperation before raising his voice again. Slapping a wrench into Carl's hand, he pointed into the engine expectantly.

"Are they alright?" Carrie asked in concern, looking from the argument in the courtyard to Rick.

"They're fine," he assured her, unconcerned. Returning his attention to the potato in his hand, he cut off the eye and tossed it into the container of root cuttings that would dry out over night. "They'll work it out."

Barely a minute later, Daryl and Carl were back to their former productive ways, having settled whatever it was they were arguing about. Checking for Walkers, Rick scanned the vulnerable area where the wooden spikes had been deposited, constantly checking that they were secure. He cast his eyes over to Carrie now, quickly looking away before he got caught staring at her. They had been working together in the gardens for two hours now, the comfortable silence broken only by occasional questions and small talk. He had already learnt her company was enjoyable, but he was surprised by how easy it was to work alongside her. Although burying his head in the gardens had always relaxed him and brought a sense of tranquility, the feeling was more pronounced today, and he suspected it was her company.

The moment this thought occurred to him, Rick grimaced and looked back to the dirt, silently scolding himself. The sooner this stupid crush blew over, the better. He shouldn't be feeling this way about someone after only five days. That was how long it had been since he had picked her up off the side of the road. Five measly days. He was being pathetic…embarrassing himself, really. Besides, even the thought that she might return his schoolboy crush was laughable. Aside from the fact that he was widowed with two children, she certainly wasn't pushing forty years old the way he was. He was too old for someone like her to be interested in him, and…How old was she again? She had to be in her early thirties, though he wouldn't put her much older than that.

In the end, her age didn't matter. This woman had spent four months on the road, completely on her own. Hell, she had nearly been raped by the same men who had attacked he, Michonne and Carl. After all that, the likelihood of her being interested in someone was low. She had other things to worry about. With this in mind, Rick once again told himself to stop fixating on her, finding himself constantly distracted.

The others returned from their gas run soon enough, each of their cars successfully gassed up with their spare containers also full. With the return of seven group members, the day's work sped up quickly. When Rick finished in the gardens, he, Daryl and Michonne got to work digging graves, taking care of their own while the others took the Walkers to the other side of the prison and burnt them. Carl stayed inside cleaning the guns and taking stock of the weapons and ammunition, the easy task allowing him to rest and work at his own pace. They paused only to eat at Aaron's insistence. Then they cleared the prison itself, the original residents taking care of C Block, while Abraham and Rosita took care of D. Rick was relived by this division of work, not enjoying the thought of clearing out the cells occupied by those from Woodbury. Though it was necessary, they were essentially looting from their own people.

Turning his attention back to the common room, Rick sat back and observed the group, pleased to see everyone having a good time. After a week on the road they certainly needed a few drinks, their arrival at the prison deserving of a small celebration. Everyone had a drink in hand, even Carrie, for whom Aidan was pouring a generous amount of red wine. She caught Rick's eye from across the room, giving a small smile as she took in the aroma of the wine. Approving, she turned her smile to Aidan now, thanking him. The group ate together with a renewed sense of camaraderie, their success in reaching the prison giving them all a much needed boost. They were certainly more relaxed and comfortable this evening, a hard day's work and good meal helping ease them into the prison.

"Dad, shouldn't you make a toast?" Carl asked from across the table.

Rick hesitated, the entire group turning to him with expectation. Clearing his throat, he picked up his mug of wine and swirled it around a little, trying to think of something to say. He glanced up at the group again, feeling a little tongue tied when he saw Carrie's gaze upon him. "To the Walkers," he said unexpectedly.

"To the Walkers?" Aidan laughed awkwardly, not understanding.

"Yes…to the Walkers," Rick repeated, casting his eyes over his group, focusing on his in particular. "For turning complete strangers into families."

There was a short pause before Daryl grunted his agreement. "Mmm," he nodded, raising his drink. "T' the Walkers."

There was a short laugh from all the group before they gave a resounding chorus of agreement, mugs clinking against one another as everyone met Rick's toast. The alcohol flowed a little more freely than Rick would have liked, but he had no grounds upon which to cramp the celebrations. The prison was as secured as it was going to be, and they were safely ensconced inside C Block…there was no reason they couldn't let their hair down.

"Can I taste it?" Carl asked, gesturing to Rick's mug of wine.

Raising his eyebrows, Rick looked at Carl and considered the request. He knew what Carl's reaction would be. "You still won't like it, but alright" he agreed, passing his mug.

"I might," he argued, no doubt trying to act older than he was. He considered the crimson liquid in his glass, everyone stopping their conversations to watch him. The moment the wine touched his tongue, Carl pulled the wretched face everyone was waiting for. "Nuh!" he cringed, handing the mug back and lunging for his soda instead.

"Nuh?" Rick questioned, everyone else roaring with laughter.

"Nuh."

Sighing, Rick corrected him. "No, is what you meant."

"Why do you care about stupid things?"

"Because I do." Drinking the last of his wine, he put the mug aside to be washed and then fetched a bottle of water instead. Pulling on his jacket, he took a rifle and set of binoculars from their stockpile, preparing to go on first watch. "It's almost nine thirty," he reminded Carl. "You can stay up, but go to bed when Glenn tells you."

"Why is Glenn always in charge of me?" Carl moaned, knowing he didn't quite let him get away with as much as Daryl or Michonne might.

"You know why," Rick told him, ignoring the mischievous wink Michonne gave his son. "Have a good night, everyone. Don't burn the place down," he added, looking at Aidan.

Heading for the door, he was forced to walk past Carrie, she and Glenn sitting on the concrete stairs and talking with ease. She had been afforded the luxury of an actual glass, although it was a beer glass. Passing her by, Rick couldn't help but notice the wine had stained her lips, that they were redder than normal. She and Glenn were talking leisurely…well a more accurate statement was that Glenn was talking at great length and Carrie was listening. Knowing how talkative Glenn could be after a few drinks, concern flickered inside Rick, and he hoped that Glenn didn't say too much about things he shouldn't. As she always seemed to, Carrie turned and caught his eye as he passed, and he just gave her a quick smile before looking away, hoping she hadn't noticed he was staring again.

Retreating to the cold night outside, Rick was relieved to be taking the first watch.

* * *

The red wine left Carrie feeling particularly warm and fuzzy that evening, her normal tolerance for alcohol significantly lower these days. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had a drink, though she knew it had been before the outbreak at least. Though alcohol was one of the few supplies that was readily available, she hadn't seen it as something she needed to drown herself in, unlike many others. Alcohol only served to weaken, and she had never felt safe enough to let a drop pass her lips until that night.

With Rick's approval, the group had let their guard down and indulged themselves, breaking out the alcohol Aidan and Nicholas had brought on the run. When a glass was pressed into her hands, Carrie had found she didn't want to refuse the indulgence, particularly when she saw the label on the bottle. She had tasted her fair share of fine wines, and she suspected that Aidan had looted this from a collector. She had been right too. Though she typically preferred white, the red wine was delicious, the taste warming her with immediate effect.

Nevertheless she had paced herself, refusing Aidan's offer of a top up. Already she felt herself relaxed and at ease, though not more so than Glenn. Against all that she thought she knew about Glenn, he too was indulging in the wine, eagerly accepting the top up when offered. Despite their apparent dislike of each other it seemed he, Nicholas and Aidan had somewhat of a drinking history. Curious, she listened as they discussed the time Glenn had brought a bottle of Jim Beam to Aidan's house in Alexandria, the night they had begun discussing the supply run down to Georgia.

As the wine flowed, so too did Glenn's stories. The more he indulged the more he talked, and he seemed particularly interested in talking with Carrie. Just like with Aaron, Glenn's company was particularly easy to enjoy, his demeanour putting her at ease with little effort. It was easy to chat with him, Carrie reassured by the look go obvious love he holds for his wife Maggie. She and Glenn talked for some time, and she heard a variety of names that she had only heard in passing, Glenn becoming more talkative the more he drank.

"It's good to talk, isn't it?" Glenn said enthusiastically, his low voice somehow keeping their conversation relatively private. Keeping his voice low during conversation must be a habit from living on the road. However while his voice was low and subtle, his hand movements were not. Using them for emphasis and meaning, they seemed to wave all over the place as he talked, his mug of wine sloshing about.

"Yes, it is," she just nodded. Glenn was getting to the stage where Carrie couldn't fit a word in edgeways, and she was relegated to just listening and nodding along with his amusing rambles.

"There's so much we don't talk about," he said in awe. "And it's people!"

"People?"

"People we've lost. We should be talking about them, right? Right, Carrie?"

"Right."

"Word of advice," Glenn muttered, leaning over a little. "Do not bring up Beth when Daryl's around. Maggie…she can talk about her now, I think…but Daryl won't. Not yet at least."

"I'll keep that in mind," she nodded, grateful for this advice. As though learning the group's history would help further integrate herself among them, Carrie had been increasingly curious about them and their people, and was part of the reason she tolerated Glenn's drunken conversation. Before this, no one had talked about the lost members of their group, their names only appearing in conversation in passing. Beth was of particular interest to Carrie, knowing that she was Glenn's sister-in-law.

"And Sophia too," Glenn added urgently, looking at her until she nodded. "We don't talk about Sophia."

"Why's that?" she enquired, that name being one she hadn't heard.

"Because…because we just don't. And to me, that's….that's, that's, that's…" Glenn lingered on this repeated word, trailing off as he tried to regain his train of thought. "Crazy! We can't just not talk about her, you know…like she didn't exist. But we do! I mean the lie, no…the denial has been…it's been…what's that word I'm looking for?"

"I have no idea."

Glenn sighed, staring at the entrance to C Block as he tried to articulate what he needed to say. "It's just it's…it's too late now. We don't talk about her, and that's all there is."

Carrie just nodded, taking another sip of her wine. Glenn was still talking, making her wonder if he ever stopped to draw breath.

"…we don't talk about Shane either, but no one's cryin' over him. Okay, maybe Carl is…well I guess it depends on what he knows, on what he figured out. But we don't talk about him, okay?"

"Who? Carl?"

"No," Glenn shook his head emphatically. "Shane," he whispered, his voice taking on a dramatic flair.

"Who's Shane?"

"Exactly," Glenn smiled at her, pointing his finger. "Go with that. Who's Shane?"

Laughing at him, Carrie shook her head wearily. "No seriously. Who's Shane?"

"Carrie-"

"Well if I'm not meant to talk about him, shouldn't I know who I'm not talking about?"

Glenn scrutinised her, his hand momentarily coming up to stroke the fine hair on his upper lip. "Tou…touché?"

"Sure. Touché works."

Looking guilty, Glenn seemed to come to a decision. "Okay, well listen up, because I'll only ever talk about him this one time," he began in a hushed voice. "Rick would kill me if he knew I was telling you this."

"Why's that?" she asked slowly.

"Like I said," Glenn told her, his hand waving about wildly. He whispered now. "We don't talk about Shane. Daryl made a joke once, when he thought Rick couldn't hear. But he heard…it was like he had a sixth sense for that name…" trailing off, Glenn looked over his shoulder as though expecting to see Rick behind him. "Now I'm not sayin' Daryl didn't deserve it, but that was a nasty punch…he didn't chew right for a week."

"Rick punched him over a joke?" Carrie questioned in disbelief. Though she had only known him a few days, Rick didn't seem quick to anger with members of his own group…at least not that she had seen. "He punched Daryl?"

Nodding, Glenn continued. "Trust me, he deserved it…that joke was…it was pretty bad. Even worse than the Governor jokes that came out after h-"

"You're getting off track," Carrie reminded him, too impatient to sit through the merits of poor political jokes. "Who was Shane?"

Glenn grimaced for a moment, looking at her apologetically. He raised his fist to his mouth, hesitated, and then burped lowly. "Rick and Shane were like this," he began, holding up two fingers twisted around one another. "Since they were like, kids or something…worked together too. Both cops."

"He and Rick made it through the outbreak together?"

Glenn snorted at this, laughing loudly enough to attract the attention of everyone else in the common room. Startled by his sudden outburst, Carrie looked at him in surprise, wondering what she had missed. She looked to the others who were in equal confusion, however they only paid attention for a moment. Taking greater interest in the game of Blackjack that had started on one of the tables, the rest of the group were watching as Tobin dealt a hand of cards.

"No," Glenn corrected her, his laughter still trailing off. "It is safe to say they did not make it through the outbreak together. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded patiently, wondering how long this would take.

"They met up after…You know Rick was in a coma, right?"

"Seriously?"

"Shot in the line of duty," Glenn declared, patting the front of his chest. "That's another story…as for Shane…you know how it is."

"Sure. Let's say I do."

"There's a line, Carrie!" Glenn said impatiently. "An - and between friends especially, there's a line! The line was there, it was drawn in the sand…and Shane just would not stay on his side of it."

"Of the line?"

"That's right…and besides, the man did not know when to shut up! He just kept talking, and yelling, and…problem was he was right. He was right, but he just didn't know how to deliver the message! You know? And he just kept pushing Rick's buttons. If there was a button to be pushed, Shane was there, pushing at it. Button…push…button…push. And he just kept tryin' to go over that line, and it was all Rick could do to keep him at bay, you know, and…"

Letting Glenn keep talking, Carrie began to second guess the importance of her knowing this. She was definitely getting the feeling like she was hearing things that were distinctly not her business. Life both before and after the outbreak had taught her that sticking her nose where it didn't belong would only end up causing trouble. No one had invited her to the information…she had wheedled it out of Glenn, taking advantage of his less than stellar judgement.

"…as for how he died…we don't talk about that either," Glenn continued, oblivious to the way her attention had wavered. "It won't get you a punch in the face, but it will earn you a look. You know… _the look_."

Taking a deep breath, Carrie forced herself to put a stop to the conversation, though a small part of her wanted to hear all the details she wasn't supposed to. "Glenn," she said tentatively. "I get the feeling you're really, really not meant to tell me this…do you want to talk about something else?"

Much like a cartoon character, the expression on Glenn's face declined so quickly Carrie struggled to keep a straight face. His expression of determined loquaciousness faded to one of significant guilt, and for a moment he bowed his head like a dog who'd had his nose smacked with a newspaper. He indulged himself with a drink of his liquor, draining the mug. He gave a long groan, putting his mug down with a heavy thud.

"Thank you…Oh, Rick would totally lose his shit if he knew what we were talking about. Especially with Carl around…"

"What's it got to do with Carl?" she asked against her better judgement.

"Well, not Carl directly…but he doesn't know," Glenn whispered importantly, not realising she didn't know either. "At least, Rick doesn't think he knows."

"Knows what?"

"That's why we don't talk about Shane," Glenn continued, not hearing the question. "We don't Carl to figure it out."

"Right," she nodded, squashing her insatiable curiosity. _Don't ask,_ she told herself. _Don't ask._

"I'm doing it again," Glenn groaned. Putting his face into his hands, he sighed loudly. "God. Last time I drank, I staggered home eight hours later and told Rick that Aidan and I were going to Georgia."

"Woah," she laughed. "Nice one."

"Yeah, good times…I think I puked on him."

Slightly concerned, Carrie shifted away from him a little, openly laughing at him while she pictured the scene. "So, there's a lot you don't talk about then," she started, trying to steer the conversation away from the man named Shane.

"Yeah. We don't talk about that either," he laughed. "The fact that there's stuff we don't talk about…it's not healthy, keepin' things bottled up."

"Well," Carrie began slowly, thinking about the ghosts from her own past, the people she was certain she could never talk about. "Sometimes it's better not to."

Glenn peered at her now, appearing to scrutinise her. "You're channeling Rick," he stated. "Throw in some paranoia and a knack for Walker killing, and you'll fit right in."

"Aww, I was hoping I fit in already," she laughed, nudging him.

"You do!" he hastened to correct himself. "You've eaten half-cooked possum, you're one of us. You're…ohhh," he groaned, trailing off yet again.

"What?"

His groan only became more wounded, Glenn burying his face in his hands again. "I'm meant to be supervising Carl…shit."

"I think he's okay," she assured him, looking over at the teen. Standing with the support of his crutches, he was looking over Daryl's shoulder, listening to his explanation of the cards. "He's only learning to gamble."

"I know what Rick's going to say…he'll say, _Dammit Glenn! I gave you one job!_ At least it's not like that time with Judith."

"Judith?"

Throwing his hands in the air, Glenn appeared to give up. "So I threw a newborn's pacifier away…sue me."

"Oh, you didn't!"

"I did…she had to suck on Rick's finger until we found it and sterilised it again. She was not happy."

Laughing at his expense, she patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. She looked at the clock on the wall, noting that it was getting late. Wondering how much longer the celebrations would continue, she thought about their plans for tomorrow. The group would be departing early in the morning for King County, the place where Rick and Carl had lived prior to the outbreak. They were hoping to find a friend of Rick's who was still alive, a man named Morgan.

"Carrie, I think I should call it a night," Glenn decided, his features pinched into a frown. "Or at least switch to water until Carl goes to bed."

"That's probably a good idea," she agreed, patting him on the shoulder. "Early start tomorrow. It was nice talking to you, Glenn."

"Yeah," he nodded, though he sounded a little surprised. "It was…"

"Go. Water," she reminded him, seeing his mind trail off and get distracted again.

"Right…water," he said loudly, hauling himself to his feet.

He staggered for a moment, getting his bearings before heading off to their large canteen. Thoroughly amused, Carrie watched him go, worried that he might keel over halfway there. Ensuring he made it to the canteen, she sipped at the rest of her wine while Glenn switched to water, sucking down two glasses in quick succession. He grimaced, burped, and then joined the others at the table, elbowing Daryl aside to make room.

Sitting quietly on the concrete steps, Carrie sought solace in the bottom of her glass, her mind reeling with everything she had learnt. Just like herself, and like the groups she had been with before, Rick and the others had history. And just like her, there were certain things that were not talked about, a mutual agreement that sought to benefit those worst affected. But as she often did, she questioned the effectiveness of the strategy, wondering how much damage they did to themselves by not talking about things. She hadn't been like that before the outbreak…she'd spent many a night on the phone with her mother or friends, bitching about being passed for a promotion or crying over the heartbreak of her divorce. But these days, it felt like there was no one capable of listening, everyone else already carrying too much of their own baggage.

Looking around at the others, Carrie was a little relieved that Rick wasn't there, that he was outside on watch. She pictured him at the top of the guard tower, shrouded in darkness and the cold wind as he protected them all. The attraction she was feeling for him directly conflicted with her rationale, particularly given what she had just learnt. Everything was a contradiction…one moment Glenn recounted the time Rick had punched Daryl for a tasteless joke, then moved on to the way he cared for his newborn. It was difficult to keep up with, and the rational part of Carrie's mind told her to stay away.

It didn't matter that she felt attracted to him…Rick could be trouble for her. With what she had been through, she didn't need the trouble of getting close to another man, especially given the way she couldn't quite decide what to make of him. But the rational part of her was slowly succumbing to another part…one that kept remembering the way he looked at her all the time, and the way her own eyes sought him out. When Michonne had hinted that Rick might be nursing a crush for her, she couldn't help but get a little thrill from the thought.

Once she had gotten to know him and mutual trust had been developed, she had taken an immediate liking to him, finding him easier to talk to than some of the others. He had made an effort to put her at ease, to strike up conversation and learn a little more about her. Although she felt safe enough with the others, she felt comfortable with Rick. Five days had passed since he had picked her up from the side of the road, since he had saved her from slow death by starvation. In that time he had done nothing to harm her, nothing that would indicate he wanted to…he raised his voice at her once, that time on the drive towards Silverpine…but he had apologised. Hell, it seemed like he even meant his apology. Her ex-husband had apologised to her for many things, but she had always doubted him. Rick on the other hand…she could tell he meant his apology.

Finishing her wine, Carrie let herself recount every moment she had spent in Rick's company thus far. It wasn't until the day they arrived at the prison that she had looked at him as anything other than the group's leader, the person who had taken her in. Though he was a little older than her, she of course noticed that he was attractive. There was something about his blue eyes that demanded her attention, an intensity about him that made it difficult to look away. She had been taken by surprise the other evening, when she had come across him leaving the bathrooms without a shirt on. Her eyes drank in his appearance, her stomach fluttering as she looked him up and down in the dim light.

"Rick has the hots for you," Michonne teased her, breaking her from her thoughts. Resuming Glenn's former position, Michonne sat down and took a long drink of water, having also decided to call it a night.

Carrie blushed in embarrassment, relieved that the lighting was poor. "So?" she said nonchalantly, wondering if her new friend could read minds. "Doesn't mean I have the hots for him."

It was only a small lie.

"Oh, come on," Michonne grinned, nudging Carrie with her elbow. "Could you be convinced?"

Still thinking of Rick, she indulgently let her imagination run away with itself, imagining his lips upon hers, his hands. Feeling his eyes raking her up and down sent shivers down her spine already…what would feeling his hands on her do? She was being completely indulgent, knowing that she shouldn't be thinking along these lines. But she couldn't help it. God…that would be so nice.

"I…I could be convinced."

Michonne laughed under her breath, satisfied with Carrie's answer. "You know what does a lot of convincing? Grapes."

"Grapes?"

"Fermented grapes."

"Ah," she said in understanding. "Those damn fermented grapes."

Michonne continued very slowly. "Maybe you should give them the opportunity to do some convincing."

Carrie looked around at her in surprise, her brow furrowed. Was Michonne saying what she thought she was? "Are you serious?" she enquired.

Michonne just shrugged. "Why not? There's wine left…go and talk to him."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Carrie considered this, thinking it through. Surely she couldn't just…just take a bottle of wine out to Rick and talk…flirt. Could she? Did she even want to? That last question was a lot to consider given her history. Still biting her cheek, Carrie thought about flickers of attraction she had been feeling for the last two days. He was handsome…and she was definitely beginning to enjoy his company. But why go and ruin it by trying to flirt with him? So what if his gaze not exactly innocent, though he tried to hide it. That didn't mean anything….it didn't mean he wanted her to flirt with him.

Did it?

"I dunno, Michonne…he's on watch."

"He'll multi-task," she said firmly.

Carrie chuckled under her breath. "But…" she began apprehensively. "I can't just…you know…go out there."

"Why not?"

"Because…what would I even do?"

"Talk to him."

"Talk?" She tested the word in her mouth, unsure of how it felt. "I can talk…I do talking very well."

Michonne laughed loudly, playfully taking Carrie's hand and making her raise her glass to her lips. "Go on then…there's nothing stopping you."

Taking a long gulp of her wine, Carrie tried to summon her bravery, to remember a time when talking to and flirting with men hadn't been a problem for her. But she hesitated, too worried. If this went badly, if it back fired, things would get very awkward very quickly. Aside from the fact that he was the leader of her group, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to do anything about her attraction.

"Michonne, I don't know if it's a good idea," she said, starting to chicken out.

There was a long pause, Michonne scrutinising her carefully. "Glenn was talking about Rick, wasn't he."

She nodded slowly, remembering all the reasons she should stay away from Rick. "Yeah."

"Look, Carrie," Michonne sighed, adjusting her headband. "I've heard things about Rick as well, good and bad. I've seen things too. That's not the whole of him."

"No, I know that."

"Good. Whatever Glenn told you, remember he's a sloppy drunk. Besides…think about yourself, the things you must have done…are they the whole of you?"

"No," she said emphatically, not hesitating for even a moment. She was horribly aware of the things she had done, and she questioned herself constantly. The one thing she was certain of, or that she tried to convince herself of, was that the things she did were not indicative of her true self, of who she really was. If she tried so hard to apply that logic to herself and the things she had done, then didn't Rick deserve the same application?

"What did Glenn tell you?" Michonne enquired in concern.

"Nothing really," she assured her. "Just a whole lot about the people I shouldn't talk about."

"Ahh." Michonne rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I got the list too."

"This guy Shane? He on the list you got?"

Her face darkening, Michonne looked at her emphatically. "Trust me, Carrie…don't bring him up."

"Geez, I won't," she insisted, although she had done just that.

There was an awkward pause now, punctuated by Nicholas' inebriated shout of "Black Jack, bitches!"

As the others began to refute his claim, Michonne tried to change the tone of their conversation, giving Carrie a playful nudge. "I hope Glenn hasn't put you off Rick."

"No, of course not," she replied politely, although he had a little.

"He's a good guy. One of the people who attacked us here in the prison…he let her join us after."

"Oh my God, why?"

"He could see in her that she didn't want to be there that day, that she didn't agree with what was going down. Rick could have easily told her to take a hike, but she's family now."

Carrie nodded, pondering this. It was still difficult to know what to think, to decide which part of her was going to influence this decision.

"Well, what do you think?" Michonne pestered. "Go out there and talk to him."

Giving a nervous laugh, Carrie tried to figure out what to say, to figure out what she was even thinking right now. "I don't know," she moaned in frustration. "I mean, if he's interested, I'm not going to knock him back."

"But?"

"But…me coming on to him? It feels like crossing some sort of line," she confessed quietly, looking to Michonne to gauge her reaction.

Michonne paused, scrutinising Carrie carefully. She dropped her playfulness a little, understanding Carrie's hesitation. "Do you want to me to stop teasing?"

"No," she laughed, not at all bothered by that. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

"He's…he's widowed. His wife is buried here."

Michonne nodded, understanding. "Carrie. Let Rick decide if that's a problem. Go on," she prompted again. "Let the grapes do their convincing."

Still hesitant, Carrie looked back to the group, questioning what she should do. It would take every ounce of bravery she possessed to go out there and talk to Rick, to come on to him so obviously. But what was the worst that could happen? Even if it went terribly wrong, the worst that would happen was embarrassment…surely she could risk embarrassment given the pay off was flirting with a man like Rick.

Her attention was momentarily distracted, Aidan's loud voice echoing around the common room. He was holding a glass of amber liquid out to Carl, loudly encouraging him to have a taste. Carl looked hesitant, lingering as though he wasn't sure how to refuse. Not knowing what to do, he looked to Glenn, who despite his own inebriation, shook his head negatively, refusing permission.

"I won this round!" Aidan declared, gesturing to the table. "You have to do what I say."

"No, thanks," Carl shook his head. "Dad would freak."

Aidan's encouragement only grew, Carl finding refuge as Glenn suggested he go to bed. Watching Aidan's antics, Carrie just rolled her eyes in exasperation, finding the motivation she needed to meet Michonne's challenge.

"Oh, God," she muttered in disdain, far preferring the thought of Rick's company to Aidan's. "Alright, I'm convinced."

"You'll do it?"

"Yeah…what the hell?"

Stifling an uncharacteristic giggle, Michonne led the way to the other side of the common room, showing her where the cardboard box of alcohol was. Trying to be subtle about it, Carrie managed to open a new bottle of wine while Michonne collected two clean mugs. With the others distracted by Tobin dealing out a new hand of cards, Carrie managed to sneak up the concrete stairs and head for the door. Although everyone else was very much occupied by the game, it felt like they were all watching her, judging her for what she was going to do.

"You all set?" Michonne enquired, handing her the mugs. "You need a breath mint? Chap stick?"

"Uhh, no. I think I'm good," she nodded nervously, hastily testing her breath. Glancing back at the group, she was relieved to see they still weren't paying her attention.

"You need a condom?"

"A cond - …Michonne!" Carrie hissed, starting to second guess herself. Would Rick think that's what she was after?…What if that was what he was after?

"I'm just teasing," she laughed. Planting her hands on Carrie's shoulders, Michonne turned very serious. "Carrie…do the man a favour. Plant one on him…make out a little."

Carrie sighed in exasperation. "I - "

Ignoring her, Michonne just opened the door and ushered her outside. "Seriously, Carrie. Kiss him. Consider it a favour to me."

"A favour?"

"The man needs it."

The door closed before she could reply, leaving her standing in the cold dark night alone. A little shocked by the abruptness of Michonne's departure, Carrie stood rooted to the spot, the mugs in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. Taking advantage of the solitude, she breathed heavily and she collected herself, feeling her body adjusting to the cold.

In that brief moment she was plagued by an array of doubts and fears, and she took a long sip of wine straight from the bottle to quell them. She took a step towards the guard tower and then stopped, standing there awkwardly as she forced herself to take another. Increasingly nervous, she took another sip from the bottle and then shook her head, telling herself she was being stupid. Two years ago she had fearless in the face of uncertainty, confident and bold in situations that made some people puke their guts up. She had conducted business meetings…she had made client pitches and been responsible for business contracts worth millions of dollars.

If she could do all that, then she could sure as hell go and talk to a man.

A/N Next chapter this weekend :-)


	14. Chapter 14

The crisp night air bit at Rick's cheeks, his breath lingering in front of him like a ghost. It couldn't be much more than forty five degrees, the cold making his cheeks sting. He'd been on watch for an hour now, his bottle of water helping him sober up a little, though he still felt the warmth of the red wine that would slow his reactions if something were to go wrong. While he didn't want to be the buzzkill that refused his group a well deserved celebration, he did regret having more than one drink himself. By now he knew better than to let his guard down, but he had done so anyway.

Just as this thought occurred to him, he heard the door to C Block opening slowly, the sound carried by the wind. Leaning back, as though being a few inches closer would help, he strained his hearing at the sound of soft voices. The conversation was only short, the door closing once again and leaving the courtyard in silence. Curious as to who had come out, Rick breathed softly as he kept listening, trying to ascertain the difference between the wind and what else he thought he could hear. The silence stretched on, and just as he was about to get to his feet and head around to the other side of the tower, footsteps began to echo.

On the wrong side of the tower, Rick couldn't see who it was approaching, but instinct told him the footsteps were female. They were smooth and steady…Michonne moved far too quietly for anyone to hear, and Rosita walked quite heavily. Coming to a conclusion, Rick felt his heart beginning to race.

It must be Carrie.

Listening as the footsteps grew closer he kept track of her progress across the courtyard, her shoes crunching on the gravel as she passed the tank and then awkwardly climbed over the hood of the cars blocking the entrance. There was a soft clunk of something against the hood and then a frustrated curse. Though the voice wasn't quite audible, Rick was certain it was Carrie. With his lower legs dangling over the edge, Rick leant to his left and tried to see down to the tower door, wanting to confirm this thought. He could see the black shadow of the door open and close, but then nothing.

Steeling himself, he looked back out across the lower field, using the spotlight to quickly scan the area and check that it was secure. His hands shook as he turned the light off and lay the rifle down beside him, but it wasn't from the cold. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing already, and he felt nervous. What was she coming up there for? Was something wrong with the others, with Carl? Perhaps the celebrations were getting out of hand. Taking a deep breath, he knew it wasn't either of those…if something was wrong, Carrie would have called out to him…instead she was taking her time, ascending the stairs slowly.

She must be coming to see him…but why? A few different possibilities crossed his mind, each of them more desirable but unlikely than the next. As he waited for her he took a drink of water to try and clear his head, telling himself to stop being stupid. But she was taking an awfully long time…why? What was she doing?

It was a relief when he finally detected the sound of her footsteps on the metal stairs. He heard her emerge into the guard room above, the trap door opening and closing before she crossed the small office space. He didn't look up as she opened the door and stepped out, not trusting himself to meet her eye just yet.

"Took you long enough," he commented. To his relief his voice was stronger and more level than he expected.

"Sorry?"

It was Carrie, and without preamble she took a seat by his side, placing something heavy down on the floor. Looking to his right, Rick realised she was sitting awfully close. There was barely more than a hand space between them. "I said, it took you long enough…on the stairs, I mean."

She laughed merrily, the sound making him look at her properly . Smiling at him, her cheeks were flushed as she readjusted Maggie's coat around her shoulders, her long hair keeping her ears warm. Shifting forward, she slipped her legs underneath the railing and dangled them over the edge just like he did.

"Well, you know…red wine and stairs."

"Ahh," he nodded, understanding.

"Speaking of…"

He looked at her again, cringing when he saw that she was handing him a mug. "No," he said weakly, though he had enjoyed that wine immensely. "No more…"

"Go on, one more." She pressed the mug into his hand, using her other to force his fingers closed around the handle. "I insist."

"I'm meant to be on watch," he insisted, more to convince himself than her. He was thoroughly tempted to accept her offering, especially as her hand lingered on top of his, making him hold the mug. But he knew what wine did to him, how much faster it went to his head than liquor. Hadn't he just finished scolding himself for drinking more than he should?

She shrugged. "Multi-task. It's only a quick drink, I promise."

"Alright," he finally agreed, tipping his mug against hers. "To Alexandria."

"To Alexandria," she agreed, meeting his toast.

He took a sip, relishing the taste and the warmth that spread through him. He looked at her intently, still feeling the pang of uncertainty. Shadows crossed half of her face, the moon not exceptionally bright, and he could just see her expression. She too was looking at him, her lips slightly parted. The wine had stained them red, and he couldn't help but glance at them before forcing himself to look away.

"So…what's going on in there?" he enquired, jerking his head back towards C Block.

"Mmm, no major shenanigans," she promised, eliciting a small laugh from him. "Although, Daryl is teaching Carl to gamble."

"God help me."

"I think he's going to bed though…Aidan's getting a little rowdy."

"Rowdy?"

"Yeah," she nodded with a short laugh. "It's pretty crowded in there."

An awkward silence filled the small space between them, Carrie's words trailing off while Rick simultaneously tried to figure out what to say. Looking at her from the corner of his eye he wished he knew what she was thinking, or that he could at least get a proper look at her face. Her features seemed to express everything that was going on…she was a dead give away to her thoughts when she wasn't concentrating on maintaining her poker face. He supposed he was like that too, although he had gotten better at keeping his face impassive, maintaining his thoughts as his own and keeping everyone out.

"I err," he began awkwardly, needing to fill the silence. "It occurred to me that I hadn't thanked you yet…for helping Carl."

She looked surprised by the sudden mention of that. Giving him a grim smile, she nodded, accepting his gratitude.

"Not just the other night when you were helping with the transfusion," he continued, the words falling off his tongue with ease. "I mean the day of the crash."

"I don't understand," she said, cocking her head curiously.

"Come on," he appealed, observing the way the shadows fell across half her face. "I know what you did for him.

"Well I'm glad you do!" she joked. "Because I don't."

Shaking his head to himself, Rick tried to find the words. "You helped him…I couldn't reach him, I was trying to hold the windscreen up. Don't you remember cutting him out of the seatbelt? And when the bullets started hitting, you tried to protect him."

"I did?"

"Don't you remember?" he asked in astonishment. She shook her head and shrugged. "Well I remember. You tried to protect him. Thank you," he concluded sincerely.

"You're welcome," she replied slowly, her eyes scrunched up as though she was trying to recall the accident.

He nodded, more so that he had something to do than anything else. Feeling the awkward silence beginning again, he scrounged through his mind for something to say…anything. "You know that saying, 'It takes a village to raise a child'?"

"Yeah?"

"It's true. Carl's life have been saved more than once, and not usually by me. The same with Judith," he continued, not questioning why he told her this. "When she was born, Daryl is the one who went and got her formula. And Tyreese and Carol…she wouldn't be alive without them."

"Isn't that what a group is for?" Posing this question, Carrie's expression was serious. "It's more than safety in numbers…You gotta have someone watching your back."

Managing a grim smile, Rick looked into his lap, her words hitting harder than she realised. "Someone told me once - actually more than once - that I wouldn't be able to protect my family…that I didn't have it in me."

"Was that Shane?"

The mention of this name took him by surprise, and he instantly felt his hackles raised. "How do you know about Shane?" he questioned.

Carrie paused before answering, flexing her lower jaw as she thought about her answer. "Glenn told me about him…said he died a while back, but you don't talk about him. Actually," she said, sounding a little apprehensive. "He told me not to bring him up at all. He was quite insistent."

Incredulous, Rick gave a short laugh. "So…you bring him up?"

She shrugged nonchalantly.

Unsure of what to make of this, Rick sighed. Strangely, he wasn't angered by Carrie bringing up Shane, even though she had been explicitly warned not to. Wondering exactly how much Glenn had told her, Rick reluctantly continued. "It was Shane who said that to me, who said I wouldn't be able to protect my family. He was…he was right."

"No," Carrie shook her head emphatically. "That's-"

"Only partly true," he cut her off. "Neither of us realised it at the time, me especially…I know how to protect my family," he reiterated. "But I can only do it with help."

"With help?"

He nodded. "Like I said, it takes a village. So…thank you, Carrie." Not needing to say anything more, he raised his mug and tapped it against hers, returning the smile she gave him.

"Well then, on that note…thank you, Rick."

"For what?"

"Aside from not running me over, and not leaving me on the side of the road…thank you for not leaving me in that car wreck, for coming back to help me."

"No thanks needed."

"I would have understood if you didn't come back," she insisted. "Your kid was shot. He was dying for all you knew…I expected you to go with him, not come back for me."

Rick started laughing, his reaction a stark contrast to what she had just said. "Carrie…the reason I didn't go with Carl, is because the others left before I could get in the car."

Her jaw gaping, Carrie started laughing too. "Well, this is awkward," she chuckled. "Here I am thanking you…"

Containing himself, he hastened to clarify. "It wouldn't have mattered where I was…Daryl and Glenn were still there. Aaron too. They wouldn't have left you. Not ever."

"Good to know," she smiled, tapping her mug against his. "Cheers, anyway."

"Cheers."

They drank together, Rick looking at her from the corner of his eye. As soon as his mug was lowered, Carrie was picking up the wine bottle and topping it up for him, a mischievous look in her eyes.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asked, though against his better judgement he didn't protest too much. He shouldn't be doing this…he suspected what she was there for, and he knew better than to encourage it. Starting anything with her, even something that only lasted a moment, wasn't right…even though his gut was telling him to go for it.

Carrie just shrugged, pursing her lips. "Glenn told me about the only time he's ever seen you drink too much…at the CDC? He mentioned a British accent."

Rick scoffed at this, disbelieving everyone who said that about him. "Don't believe everything you hear."

"Well…on that note, you could clarify one thing for me."

"What's that?" he asked, welcoming her question.

"What's your name?"

On the inside, Rick cringed. But on the outside, he kept his expression neutral. "Rick Carlson Grimes."

"No, your real name," Carrie insisted, shaking her head in mock dismay. "The one your mother gave you."

"That is my name."

"Then why did Carl threaten to tell me your real name the other day?"

Closing his mouth, Rick clenched his jaw and silently cursed his son. He took a long drink to buy himself some time.

"Oh come on…you can tell me," she pleaded, nudging him playfully. "I tried to get it out of Carl today, but he's loyal when he's not mocking you."

"I'm not telling you," he said in embarrassment, feeling the wine making his head a little fuzzy. "No one's used my full name since I was twelve."

"Alright then," she sighed, taking a drink of her wine. Picking up the bottle, she topped both of their mugs up. "I'll just have to guess."

"Carrie…"

"I figure it's got to be embarrassing," she mused, enjoying his discomfort. "There's nothing embarrassing about Richard…and you don't strike me as an Eric."

"Carrie," he sighed, hoping to get her off the subject. "Even if you do guess, I'll never admit to it."

She laughed at him, nodding her head insistently. "I'll get it out of you. Frederick? No…Patrick?"

"Do I look Irish to you?" he laughed, amused to see this humorous side of her.

"Cedric? Oh, come on. That's a beautiful name."

"You're just wasting time," he insisted, raising the binoculars and scanning the lower field so that he could avoid eye contact.

"Maverick? I could understand not liking that name. No…Merrick? Kendrick? Derrick? Roder…" She suddenly trailed off.

"What?" he said, looking at her before he could stop himself. A small smile was playing on her lips, her satisfied expression telling Rick she had figured it out. "It's not," he denied, quickly looking away again.

"It was one of those, wasn't it?"

"You can think whatever you want."

"Derrick? It's Derrick isn't it?" she stated, giving a whoop of satisfaction when she saw the corner of his eye twitching.

He didn't know what to say, but knew that his silence was as equally damning as admission. "Fine. It's Derrick," he growled, surprised she had so easily gotten under his skin. "But if you tell anyone, and I mean anyone…I'll feed you to the Walkers."

She laughed loudly, looking painfully beautiful as she threw her head back in amusement. "Oh come on," she smiled, nudging his elbow. "What's wrong with Derrick? It's sweet."

"Yeah, I know," he said bitterly, remembering that aspect of his childhood. "Sweet little Derrick Grimes."

"Oh," she said, seeing where he was going with this. "People called you sweet?"

"Yes," he griped, taking a large sip of wine. "It was awful. Old ladies used to pinch my cheeks and talk about how kind and gentle I was. Then kids at school started it too."

"So? Everyone gets made fun of in school."

He shook his head. "It was more than that…Anytime someone asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, they'd shake their heads and say that I was too sweet to be a cop, too nice. Told me I should be a doctor or something…all because they thought my name was sweet."

"When did you change it to Rick?"

"When I was twelve. I refused to answer to anything else, and started hitting any other kid who called me Derrick. No one called me sweet when I broke Jordan Miller's nose."

"So you were a rotten kid, that's what you're saying?"

"I was for a little while," he laughed, amused by her observation. "But it was a small town…word spread fast that I was causing trouble all over my name…so people started calling me Rick like I wanted. The only person who ever got away with calling me Derrick was my grandma."

"Not even Lori?"

"No way. She knew better than that."

Carrie laughed at his expense, entirely unsympathetic. "Come on, at least you didn't grow up with the same name as a homicidal teen."

"Huh?" he said, looking at her dimly.

"Carrie," she said emphatically. "The movie? The Stephen King novel?"

"Oh," he moaned, sympathising. "That would have been bad."

"One guy asked me to the senior prom, but only if I promised I wouldn't murder him with telekinesis."

"Did you go with him?"

"No," she said bitterly. "I smacked his shins with my hockey stick and told him to stop making fun of me… no one else asked me to prom after that."

"Funny that."

Carrie smiled at him in amusement. "God, school kids were cruel."

"Tell me about it…middle school would have awful if I didn't have Shane backing me up," he confessed, surprised by his own mention of Shane. "When Lori and I were having Carl, I said no to almost every name she suggested, because all I could think of was how other kids would tease him with it."

"How did you end up choosing Carl?"

"He went unnamed for two days, until Lori put her foot down and decided on the reverse of my name."

"Carlson Derrick Grimes…it's nice."

"Carlson Rick Grimes," he corrected her. "I wasn't passing my horrible name down to him. It was good name for him too…no one made fun of it until Daryl started calling him Carlene. Trust the man who named my newborn daughter Ass Kicker to ruin Carl's name."

"Ass Kicker?" she laughed. "Trust Daryl…How did you choose Judith?"

Rick hesitated, knowing his daughter's name was a little old fashioned. "I let Carl name her…besides, I was less concerned about school yard bullies making fun of her."

"Fair enough," she agreed, topping up their wine.

She gave a great sigh, looking at the bottle as she put it down. Following her gaze, Rick was horrified to see that there was only a little over a quarter left, just enough for a final top up later on. Swallowing heavily, he took a moment to reflect on how much he had to drink, having consumed more than he realised. Silence lingered again, but it was comfortable this time. Carrie sipped at her wine before looking at him.

A moment passed, he and Carrie looking at each other with strange expressions. For a brief second, Rick again started to hope that she returned his attraction…that had to be what brought her up here. Why else would she have joined him in the guard tower with a bottle of red wine? Surely she wasn't just seeking company so she didn't have to drink alone. Was she thinking what he was? Had she picked up on the feelings he was indulging just as much as he was trying to ignore?

"Tell me about Alexandria," she requested, her voice soft.

Rick breathed out, surprised by her question. "What do you want to know?"

"Is there really electricity?"

He nodded. "It runs off a solar grid. It's a little dodgy sometimes."

"So there's hot water?" she asked, a tentative smile gracing her face.

"Instant hot water."

"God," she sighed longingly, staring out across the open field below. "I bet the showers are amazing."

Remembering the very first shower he had taken there, Rick nodded in agreement. "They are."

"How many people?"

"Forty five, until my group made it sixty. You'll make sixty one."

"And the walls? Fifteen foot, right?"

He nodded.

"I always knew there'd be safe places to live. I just…didn't think I'd ever make it there." As she spoke, she looked at Rick and frowned. "What? You don't think it's safe?"

"I didn't say that," he said hastily, not wanting to share his insecurities about Alexandria with someone who had never been there. He couldn't taint her opinion of the community before she had the chance to judge it for herself.

"But you haven't agreed with me."

He sighed, his brow pinched as he tried to think of the right words. He could explain without tainting her opinion, he just wasn't sure of how. "It sounds…overly paternal…but they don't really know what they're doing. It's safe enough for now…but not forever."

"How so?"

"They've got people who've never been outside the walls. People who wouldn't survive a week. They've got an armoury of weapons only few know how to use. Worst of all, they depend on their walls to protect them," he concluded, gesturing to the prison fences below. "Just like we did here."

"Oh."

"Everyone says I'm paranoid…but eventually, things go to shit. I just don't want what happened here, to happen in Alexandria."

"But it's inevitable," she agreed slowly, appearing to understand. "So…what are you doing about it?"

Her enquiry was out of curiosity, not doubt. "We've got some things in mind. We want to keep Walkers away from the walls. We're taking down the barbed wire from our fences here, we'll string it up in the woods around Alexandria."

"You should dig trenches too…to trap them."

"Already on it," he smiled, amused she had the same thought as he did. "But my main concern is the road there. It's pretty obvious from the turn off that we're using it often. I want us to remain hidden…so that no one comes looking for us there."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Well, I've got to get it past Deanna first. But we were thinking maybe creating a road blockage…if we can cut down a couple of trees to fall across the road, we can block it off completely. Then we can just make a route that's easier to hide."

"What's Deanna like?" she enquired now, her curiosity aroused by his offhand comment.

"What have you heard?"

"Aidan says she's the leader…she founded it."

Rick chuckled to himself. "She's the leader because she was there first."

"Unlike you?"

He shrugged, having not meant to draw comparisons between himself and Deanna. "She's done a good job…they've saved a lot of lives. She wants to grow the community in the future…to build a new society."

"But?"

"You sense a but?"

"A big one."

Smiling, he looked at her, approving of how perceptive she was. "Deanna is…contradictory."

"In what way?"

"She's all talk, and no action. In my…interview," he began. "She told me that Alexandria needed my group…that they needed someone who had been on the outside to protect them. But she's not willing to listen to much of what we tell her."

"Such as?"

"Such as the need to protect themselves better. Like I said…they depend on their walls too much."

There was a long pause, Carrie sipping at her wine as she thought about what he had told her. To his relief, she didn't look put off, only a little better informed about the intricacies of blending two distinctly different groups of people.

"Where do you think I'll live? What will my job be?"

Rick shrugged nonchalantly. "You'll live wherever Deanna decides. As for your job, it will depends on how she prioritises you."

"In what way?"

Taking a large gulp of his wine, Rick drew a deep breath, feeling his head spinning a little. "There are three groups….three priorities that reflect how necessary you are. If you're a Priority One, you need protection. Children, old folk, and those with essential skills."

"Like a doctor?"

He nodded. "Priority Two applies to people with children depending on them. They can go on supply runs if they want to, but Deanna prefers them to stay. Nicholas has a son…he's a two."

"And three are the non-essentials?"

"Pretty much. People capable of going on supply runs, but who don't have children depending on them to come back."

"That's a bit blunt," she muttered.

He shrugged, agreeing with her. "It's just the way it is. It works."

"I'll be a three then," she stated, looking to him for confirmation. When he nodded, she continued. "That's fine with me…I can do supply runs. You on the other hand…you must be a two."

Nodding in agreement, Rick sipped at his wine. "Deanna wasn't keen on me going on this run…who's going to be responsible for my children if I died?"

"Fair enough."

"When we settled in, she gave us all paperwork to fill out…details about who we were, where we came from. She wanted me to name next of kin for Carl and Judith…guardians."

"And?"

"There wasn't enough space for all the names."

"You couldn't pick just one person?"

"No," he shook his head, knowing it was impossible to name one particular person as the guardian for his children. "No, more interesting to let everyone fight over them."

"They did that?"

"Yeah. When they saw I filled in more than one name, Carol, Glenn and Michonne nearly had a punch up. Daryl was smart enough to hang back and let the competition wipe itself out."

"That's good," she smiled. To his surprise, she reached her hand down beside her, placing it over his. "If people are fighting over who gets to keep your kids, you haven't got a group…you've got a family."

He nodded, feeling his breath stop momentarily. Her hand on top of his felt heavier than it should, her skin burning hot against his despite the cold wind. "Yeah," he forced himself to reply, agreeing with her.

His lips fell open a fraction, and he glanced down at their hands. Feeling his breathing pause again, he looked back up at her and tried to think, but his mind was painfully blank. She seemed as nervous as he felt, and he fought the urge to turn away in embarrassment, in fear. In that instant he knew what she was doing, and his heart began to pound. He was completely unprepared for this…he didn't know what to do. Seconds ago they had been in full conversation, and now…

Inches away from him, Carrie smiled shyly, leaning fractionally closer and tilting her face to match his. He yearned to close the space between them and take what he wanted, but he knew he was playing with fire. He both wanted this, and didn't want this, and he struggled to make sense of the fine line. It was becoming more and more difficult to distinguish, his body taking over conscious thought. She was trying to gauge his reaction to her advance, waiting for him to do something. Finally he did, leaning down a little and feeling her breath on his chin. The wine emboldened him, giving him the courage to go just a little further, to take what he wanted.

But doubt lingered, making him panic, and before he could stop himself he pulled away.

Releasing the breath he had been holding, he was horrified to see the disappointment on her face, feeling her hand atop of his disappear. Turning away, he tried to get himself together by looking across the field below, focusing on the darkness. An awful ache settled itself in the pit of his chest, the disappointment telling him that he had just missed out on something great. Looking at her from the corner of his eye, he tried to figure out what she was thinking, wondering if she would be mad at him, if she was upset. Her face gave away her embarrassment, self-conscious that her advance appeared to have been rejected. Kicking himself mentally, he knew he had screwed up…he had missed his chance.

"Carrie," he began quietly, although he didn't know what he was going to say. All he knew was that he needed to fix this…he wanted to.

She laughed nervously, trying to brush it off. "Sorry," she said shyly, looking anywhere but him.

"No…just," he continued, feeling more and more awkward. Swearing under his breath, he picked up his mug and downed the last mouthful of wine, needing something to do. Putting some space between them gave him the opportunity to think, to get his head together. Putting the mug down heavily, the sound feeling louder than it should have, he took a deep breath. "Carrie…"

Looking up at him, she pressed her lips into a thin line as she tried to hide her embarrassment, probably wishing she could sink into the ground and disappear. Wanting to rid of her that expression, and feeling bold enough to try, he tentatively reached out to her. In a bold move he cupped the side of her face, hoping he made his intentions clear. He wondered if she would change her mind now, if she would reject him just as he had rejected her. Leaning closer, he watched as a flicker of hope crossed her face, and he gave slight pause, looking her in the eye and waiting. A smile played across her lips as she tilted her face to match his, but she didn't go any further. They lingered there, so close Rick could once again feel her soft breaths against his chin.

Before he could hesitate a second time, he closed the small distance between them and brushed his lips against hers. He stopped thinking, his eyes drifting shut as she responded to his kiss, her smooth lips moving over his with a soft sigh. It was painfully gentle, a contrast to the way his heart was racing while his brain screamed for more. Her response was perfection, exactly what he was seeking. Confident that she was okay with this, he gently began to deepen their kiss, taking her bottom lip between his and grazing the tip of his tongue across it. The remnants of the red wine they had enjoyed still lingered, and he coaxed her lips to open a little more for him, seeking more of it, more of her. She tasted both heavenly and sinful at the same time, the contradiction only making it better, making him want more.

A short sound from behind them made him stop. Pulling back a little, he looked inside the tower and heard echoing footsteps. A moment later the top of a head began to emerge from the trapdoor. In a panic Rick thought of Carl, who was never where he was supposed to be, and promptly tore himself away from Carrie. He hadn't even realised how close they had become, that his hand had settled on her thigh until he was pulling it away from her. His blood was practically on fire, lust and desire coursing through him even as he tried to catch his breath. Looking at her in shock, he felt his shoulders sag at the sight of her smile, which served only to make his desire even stronger.

"G' evening," Daryl greeted them lowly, leaning in the doorway as he lit a cigarette.

"Hey, Daryl," Rick greeted. Clearing his throat, he tried to act naturally. As he turned to look at Daryl he promptly knocked over his empty mug, watching helplessly as it rolled underneath the rail and fell off the edge. A moment later they heard it hit the ground with a short thud.

"You're trashed, aren't yah?" Daryl commented, snapping his lighter shut.

"I think so," Rick said quietly, glancing at Carrie again. She was acting naturally, though it seemed to come to her a little easier. She could tell he didn't want what just happened to be broadcast, and was doing a better job than he of keeping it under wraps.

"Shouldn't drink red wine, Rick. Ain't you figured that out yet?"

"It's my fault," Carrie apologised, moving slowly as she got to her feet. "I wanted to hear the British accent."

"And?" Daryl questioned, reaching down and helping Rick to his feet. "Easy now…"

"No luck."

"I do not have a British accent," Rick protested, wobbling a little as he stood. Now that he was upright and lacking the adrenaline that had encouraged him, the amount of wine he had consumed took full effect. He clumsily looked around, trying to find something. "The rifle is…uhhh…"

"Good thing we had you on watch," Daryl muttered sarcastically, clapping Rick on the shoulder. "You two gon' be alrigh' to get back?"

"Ah huh."

"Then go to bed." With his hand on his shoulder, Daryl leant close with a whisper. "To your own bed, alrigh'?"

Looking at him pathetically, Rick knew Daryl had seen he and Carrie kissing. Of course he had…Daryl was renowned for sneaking up on people, even when he didn't intend to. Shame swept through him, remembering a conversation he and Daryl had only a few days ago, when Rick had insisted this stupid crush of his was going to blow over, that he wanted it to. But even though Daryl had seen them, his expression displayed no hint of teasing or mockery, just a stern request that he go to bed alone.

"Ah huh…"

Somehow, Rick and Carrie miraculously made it down the long narrow staircase of the guard tower, both of them entirely focused on making sure their feet found the next step. They emerged into the dark night air and clumsily climbed over the hood of the car blocking the gate. For a moment it looked like Carrie was going to steady herself by grabbing onto him, her balance wavering as she slid down the hood. At the last minute she grabbed the fence instead, and there was an awkward moment where they both looked at each other, not sure what to say or do. She was wondering what his reaction would be, about whether he regretted what had just transpired. Given how tired he felt in that moment, how the alcohol affected him more now he was standing up, Rick had absolutely no idea what he felt.

"Let's, err….C Block," he said stupidly, pointing in that direction.

Together they slowly made their way across the courtyard, heading for the warmth and comfort of their cells. They walked side by side, but never touched, Rick feeling as though he was doing the walk of shame the morning after. He could feel Daryl watching him from the tower, shining the spotlight on the courtyard to ensure they made it back to the cell block safely. Dwelling on this, he prayed that Daryl wouldn't make a big deal out of what he saw.

It was dark inside, and Rick fumbled with his duty belt to find his flashlight. In the short time since Carrie had joined him in the guard tower, the others appeared to have called it a night. Mugs and empty wine bottles littered the tables, an abandoned deck of cards and poker chips abandoned in favour of warm beds. Worried about the poor light, Rick extended his arm to Carrie without further thought, pleased when she wound her arm around it and let him walk her down the few short steps to the common room. With both of them walking slowly, they made their way towards the cells, Rick trying to remember which one was hers. She led the way, slowing to a stop outside one Glenn had reserved for her. Delivering her there safely, Rick took back his arm and lingered for a moment, feeling the need to say something…but what? There were a number of things he wanted to say, but rationality ran out.

"Carrie…we can't do that again," he whispered. He looked around the dark cell block, worried that someone would still be awake, listening to them.

Despite his words, she raised her hands and pressed them against his chest. "We can't?" she whispered back. "Or, you don't want to?"

He hesitated, her question voicing exactly what he had been thinking. He wanted to…he very much wanted to…but he shouldn't. A soft moan of defeat escaped his throat, and he leant down to capture her lips with his once more. He couldn't help himself, greedily wanting to taste her again, to remind himself that what had just happened was real, not a figment of his imagination. She returned his kiss with hunger, her hands sliding to his hips and pulling him to her. Before he knew it he was pressing her against the bars of her cell, her breath hot against his ear as he trailed his lips down her neck. Her very presence intoxicated him, the sensation of her body against his and her hands on his hips making him not want to stop.

Feeling impulsive, he scraped his teeth against her skin, kissing the spot as she gave a small gasp. He wasn't sure what prompted him to do that…simply put, he wanted to. Roughly scraping his tongue against that spot, he sucked on it ravenously, enjoying the soft moan he felt rumble in her throat. They could very well keep going on their current trajectory, his desire to keep going very obvious to both of them. But Daryl's instructions that he go to bed alone ran through his head, breaking through the noisy buzz the wine had left him with. Very reluctantly, he slowed her down and pulled back a just little, lightly brushing his lips against hers.

"We can't," he clarified, swallowing heavily. He knew he should step back, that he should take his hands off her, but he didn't feel completely capable. They lingered on her waist, holding her where he wanted her.

"Ah huh," she said breathlessly. Smiling at him, she made no effort to take her hands off him, nor to take his from her.

In spite of what he just said, he brought his lips back to hers, covering hers sigh of relief. They kissed leisurely, Rick boldly slipping his tongue between her lips, needing all of her right now. He moaned when her tongue brushed against his, teasing him as a distant thought reminded him they needed to be quiet. But this thought was drowned out very quickly, feeling her hands dragging themselves down his back while his clutched at her waist. He wanted to move them elsewhere, to feel her skin beneath his palms, not her jacket. Their feet were moving now, Carrie staggering backwards over the threshold of her cell while her hands and lips coaxed him to follow her inside. He eagerly followed, and boldly reached for the hem of her shirt.

A loud noise startled them both, Rick jumping back from her in fright. Drunk, his reflexes where slow to catch up, and he looked around in fear of who had caught them. The darkness disoriented him for a moment, and it felt like a long time before he realised what had made the noise that startled them. He had dropped his flashlight, the item slipping from his hand as he reached for the hem of Carrie's shirt.

"Errr," he muttered awkwardly, his heart pounding.

The flashlight had rolled back outside her cell, commanding him to depart in order to pursue it. Licking his lips, he hastily picked it up, holding it tightly as he turned back to face her. Carrie's quiet laugh startled him. She was laughing at his expense, biting her lips as she slipped her hands into her pockets to stop them reaching for him again. Taking a deep breath, Rick ran his hand through his hair and felt his pulse slowing down, reason slowly returning to his head.

"We should…err…go to bed," he panted. "I mean, our own beds…in our cells."

Still grinning, she nodded her head and leant against the bars of her cell. "Goodnight, Derrick," she whispered, smirking as she used his full name.

Amused by her taunt, Rick changed his stance a little, squaring his shoulders at her challenge. "Goodnight…Carlene."

Not touching, the two of them stood less than a foot apart, neither of them making a move to leave. They were in a sort of stand off, neither of them wanting to be the first to make a move, whatever that move may be. The proximity gave Rick the chance to observe her features as he had many times, the light from his flashlight giving him just enough to see by. Her lips were plump and swollen, a testament to their urgent kiss, while her cheeks were tinged pink, giving away just how much she had enjoyed it. But it was her eyes that always caught his attention, sparkling with a hint of mischievousness he often saw from Carl. He looked at her reverently, talking himself down from the desire to go back to her.

"Isn't your cell down that way?" she asked, arching her eyebrow and pointing.

Scanning his eyes over her dark eyebrows and then into her blonde hair, Rick wondered how the two colours didn't clash…somehow they complemented her features perfectly, making her face distinctive. Making himself pay attention to what she had said, he knew she was getting the last word. It should have annoyed him, should have made him want to retort back at her with something witty…but frankly he had nothing. Bowing out while he was still ahead, Rick held her gaze as he took a decisive step back. He began the walk back to his own cell, breaking her gaze only when he stumbled a little thanks to the wine. Confident that he was maintaining a little of his pride, he reached his cell and pulled back the sheet, looking back down the block towards her.

He could only see her outline now, his lips curving into a smile when she gave him a cheeky wave, no doubt telling him to go to bed. A moment later she disappeared into her cell, the sheet fluttering a little until it settled down. Both relieved and disappointed that their whole encounter was over, Rick slipped inside his own cell and breathed a sigh of relief as he turned off the flashlight.

God help him, he had never been more confused. Was what had just happened a good thing? What did actually happen? His head far too cloudy for this particular internal argument, he took note of Carl's slow, even breaths as he leant down and unlaced his boots. He wobbled pathetically, trying not to groan out loud as his head swirled and his stomach churned. Though he had a few drinks at Deanna's welcome party, it had been some time since he had consumed this amount of red wine. That particular drink always seemed to go straight to his head, faster than straight liquor or beer.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady his head, Rick slowly fumbled with the buckle on his duty belt, carefully draping it across his pack when he removed it. Content knowing that Daryl was on watch, he relished the thought of sinking down onto the surprisingly comfortable prison mattresses. But the thought was quickly banished, his heart sinking as he looked up at the top bunk with a sad realisation. Though he had slept up top the night before, tonight it might as well have been twenty feet in the air.

There was no way he could get up onto the top bunk.

A/N The 'real name' thing came from my own experience, when I found out after six months that my boyfriend's name Tim was just a nickname, and his actual name was Brenton. I've never quite come around to his actual name. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, but don't get too excited...the slow burn is not over.


	15. Chapter 15

Warnings for attempted rape. I know the story is rated strongly, but I though I ought to throw this warning in at start of the chapter. Don't want to read that bit? Scroll about ⅓ down and carry on.

The following morning greeted Carrie with a pounding headache and a queasy stomach, coupled with a heavy weight on her chest that came from a terrible night of sleep. Hung over, she groaned softly as she turned onto her other side, pulling the blankets up over her shoulders and clenching her eyes. She didn't need to open them to remember where she was, that she was safe inside the prison Rick and his group had brought her to. There was a distinct smell of concrete and dust, one that didn't require sight to identify. Feeling safe and secure, she simply lay there and wallowed in her hangover.

Assessing the damage she had done to her body the previous night, Carrie groaned again, feeling her dry mouth and churning stomach. How she longed for the days when her ex-husband would wake her up after a night out with a mug of green tea, Tylenol and a piece of toast. Comfortable, she lay very still and listened to her surroundings, taking note that at least one person was awake. She could hear them moving around, a metallic clicking sound signalling that they were fiddling with a gun. This aroused no flicker of fear within her, despite the awful dreams and nightmares she had last night.

It had been a little while since she had dreamt. Living hand to mouth on the road meant that any sleep she did come by was light and in short bursts, not allowing much time for nightmares and horrible dreams. Since joining Rick's group she had slept well, feeling safe and secure enough to let her body recover with long hours of sleep during the night and while travelling. Last night though, she had broken her lucky streak. Alcohol always gave her funny dreams, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that her sleep was broken by unsettling dreams, by memories of what had happened to her.

Four months ago, Carrie and Sue had been the last of their group left, having lost two others when they didn't return from venturing inside Terminus. They were managing on their own, leaning on each other for support and strength. Although they had never really liked one another, which wasn't necessarily important these days, Carrie and Sue made a decent team. They had two knives and a gun between them, and for a few weeks that had proven to be enough. Nevertheless, they were vulnerable, and not just to Biters. One night they were laying low, sitting with their backs against each other. Carrie slept while Sue kept watch, and they planned to swap partway through the night. How their initial attack had begun, Carrie was unaware. All she knew was that she awoke with a start, a hand wrapping itself around her arm and wrenching her to her feet with a loud proclamation.

"Claimed!"

Wrenched from her sleep, it took Carrie a few moments to start fighting back, to even figure out what was going on. In a state of confusion she struggled against the person that held her in a tight embrace, pushing her feet into the ground as she tried to wrestle them off of her. Before she could do much more she found herself pinned to the ground, a hulking mass holding her down as their sausage like fingers covered her mouth. Fighting to breathe against the heavy weight pinning her down, she struggled to comprehend what was happening, not yet understanding.

"Now now," a man's voice called out, his drawling accent making Carrie's skin crawl. "Let's not get ahead o ourselves by making premature claims. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe tonight is Murray's choice."

There were some cheers now, indicating that it was a group of men who were attacking them. Without warning, the sausage like fingers moved from her mouth and into her hair, using it to haul her up onto her knees. It was pitch black except for beams of light coming from two flashlights, and they allowed her a few glimpses of the men that had attacked she and Sue. Looking around desperately, she tried to figure out exactly what they were up against, how heavily these men were armed.

"Murray!" the same drawling voice said in delight. "Your choice. You've earned it."

Carrie watched as a white haired man proudly clapped someone on the shoulder. Bringing him over, he shone a flashlight directly on Carrie, before turning it in the other direction to Sue. Just like she, Sue was on her knees, two men holding her as more lingered on the sidelines. In a moment of self-preservation, Sue took a chance and launched herself to her feet, momentarily taking her captors by surprise. Watching hopefully, Carrie's heart leapt as Sue actually managed to take a few steps back before they were on her again.

The white haired man, clearly the leader of the group, cheered and clapped his hands, the whole group laughing merrily as they encouraged Murray to make a choice, to pick his victim. The man named Murray fiddled with his long plait of red hair, peering between the two woman as the leader shone his flashlight on them in turn. He turned to Sue and tilted his head at her.

"What's your name, Sweetheart?"

Sue looked at Carrie as she answered. "Amanda."

Murray turned to Carrie next, and asked her the same question. She didn't answer at first, trying to maintain some level of control to hang on to. Not content to let her disobey him, Murray pulled out a gun from the inside of his leather jacket, pointing it to Sue.

"Georgia," Carrie answered, giving the same name that she had given to the other men who willingly took advantage of her.

Giving a low whistle, Murray let his attention dwell on her for a few moments. "A sweet Georgia peach?" he drawled.

"S-sure," she muttered, seeing he was waiting for her response.

Satisfied with their answers, there was silence as Murray looked between them in satisfaction, weighing up his apparent choice. As the seconds passed, Carrie looked over at Sue and tried to reassure her, because she knew what do to. They both knew what she had been through before in order to protect the others...she could make the same type of deal again to afford Sue a little protection. Whether she could live with herself in the morning was an entirely different problem.

"Look," she began softly, her voice gentle and non-threatening. "We can do a deal, alright? You don't have to include her, you can ju-"

"You tryin' to save your friend, huh?" the white haired leader began, smiling at her cruelly. "Think we won't take care of her?"

Carrie paused, wonder how best to put this. "It's just not necessary to include her," she continued, feeling sick to her stomach by what she was offering, again. She looked around in the dim moonlight, counting at least eight figures, and she knew this would be worse than what had happened last time. Just as she mentally started talking herself into what she must do, convincing herself, the hulking figure who clenched her hair began to stroke it instead, the motion making her want to puke.

"You see, Sweetheart…I don't work like that, does it Murray?"

"No, it don't," Murray shook his head, titling his head at her. Turning in her direction, he made his decision. "Claimed."

"A claim has been laid, fellas," the white haired man nodded diplomatically, as though giving his blessing. Looking at Sue now, he gestured to her as though welcoming the others. "Looks like we share the left overs."

Horrified by the unexpected turn of events, Carrie barely even had time to protest. Suddenly Murray was grabbing the front of her shirt and hauling her upright, yelling at the other man and telling him to fuck off. There was a slight scuffle, a moment in which she broke free only to run two steps into the clutches of the white haired leader. As he berated the others for arguing, he caught her hands as she tried to jab him in the eye, easily wrangling her into submission before winding his arm around her neck. She felt him squeeze tightly as the scene played out before her, and she caught glimpses of Sue as the others converged on her.

Clawing at the arm around her neck, Carrie tried to free herself, but it was no use. Unable to breathe, she felt darkness creeping in on her, her oxygen deprived brain making her pass out. When she came around she was face down on the ground, a heavy mass holding her down and slapping her cheek to rouse her. Seconds later she was hauled to her feet and made to start walking, the man she recognised as Murray clenching her upper warm. She looked through the darkness for Sue, panicked that she couldn't see her…but she could hear her, and it took only a second for Carrie to wish that she couldn't.

Why was it so impossible to scream? She tried, her chest heaving as she tried to draw enough breath, but even then she couldn't muster it. Instead she simply began to cry, trembling as the cruelty of life hit her. She knew what she would have to do for this man, what he wanted to take from her, but this time there was no payoff for her…letting this man take advantage of her wouldn't help her group in anyway. He roughly steered her where he wanted, and weak with fear she stumbled over the rocky ground. Finally he came to a stop, one hand running up and down her side as the other held her tightly. Pressing himself against her back, he laughed at her, grabbing her breast and squeezing it hard.

"Just leave us alone," she whispered, her voice strained with the struggle to breathe properly. "Please…"

As if to echo her request, an anguished scream came from the distance, mocking the one that she couldn't manage. Sue was still struggling. Panicking, Carrie tried to pull away, needing to help Sue, to stop them. She could hear more of them, a group's laughter echoing around the quiet woods.

"Don't you know how these things work?" Squeezing the top of her arm tightly, he reached down to the front of her jeans and pressed his palm there, the motion making her jerk in disgust. "I laid claim on you, Sweetheart," he drawled. "You won't make me go back there and hurt your friend, will you?"

Carrie didn't answer, her throat clenched tight as she trembled in his hands. Everything about his man revolted her. His touch, his smell, the awful drawl he used to taunt her with. Her heart couldn't possibly beat any faster, and though she wanted to fight, terror rendered her motionless. He asked her again, his hand between her legs clenching her painfully. Shaking her head, Carrie broke down, tears falling freely as she felt so helpless. There was nothing she could do. She couldn't stop this man raping her, she couldn't stop them raping Sue. Not for the first time in her life she prayed that Biters would appear out of thin air, that they were take them all out, herself included.

"You'll make this good for me?"

Carrie nodded her head. She knew what she needed to do…it would be over soon.

"You won't fight me?"

She shook her head this time.

Suddenly his hands vanished, her attacker taking a step back. Standing behind her, she could feel his eyes roving up and down her body through the darkness, leering at her. "Say it…"

She tried to, she really did, but her voice failed her. Instead, she stood there gasping for breath, trying to find the inner strength to get herself through this ordeal. Once he was done with her, he would let her go. She clung to his hope as he shoved her hard, demanding that she verbalise her submission.

"I won't fight you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Holding herself was a small measure of protection, and it brought her momentary comfort. Seconds later he returned, grabbing her hips and pushing her to the ground face first. Crying out, Carrie submitted to him fully, knowing she had no other choice. He was too large for her to fight off, even if she was physically and mentally stronger. Letting him push her face into the ground, she felt him climb on top of her, his hips rocking against her from behind. Laying there, she trembled as he unzipped his trousers and gave a low grunt, whispering something she couldn't hear.

His weight on top of her was awful, causing her pain as he pressed her hard against the ground, his hand pulling at her hair. Wrenching her head back, he slammed it down to the ground with a short laugh. Possessing complete control of her, he sat up a little and wriggled his hands around to the front of her jeans, opening the button and zipper. Yanking hard, he starting pulling her jeans and underwear down, his fingernails painfully scratching her skin. Holding her breath, she willed herself not to puke, the feel of his mans hands and eyes on her body revolting her.

He tried to roll her over, but she resisted with everything she had. She didn't want to see his face, nor him to see hers. Hiding her face and her name was the only protection she could afford herself. Growling at her angrily, he clenched his fist around her neck and squeezed hard, choking her until she gave in to his will. Letting him roll her over, Carrie tried to keep her face averted, but he forced her to look at him, and it was then that she panicked. She didn't want him to see her face, to see the vulnerability he was exploiting. Using all of her strength she bucked up beneath him, the surprise of her resistance letting her throw him off. She scrambled to get away from him, and in the dark her hand miraculously fell upon what she needed. The rock was small enough for her to wield, but heavy enough to do damage. As he fell upon her again, pinning her to the ground with an amused growl, she twisted beneath him and swung as hard as she could.

Barely emitting more than a grunt, he slumped down on top of her. He clumsily tried to push himself up, blood dripping down into her hair and face as she swung again. Wrenching herself out from under him, she felt the wet texture of blood on the rock. The man lay a few feet away from her, swearing at her while he slowly raised his hand to his head. Without thinking, Carrie leapt forward and brought the rock crashing back down, slamming it against the front of his head again and again. Thinking of his hands all over her, taking her body against her will, she kept going until she was sure he was dead. Finally she slowed to a stop, her hands slick with blood that had spattered across her face and chest. Crying out lowly, she dropped the rock and scrambled away, fixing her clothes as she got to her feet. She was running before she had time to consider the implications of doing so, and seconds later she was back on the road she and Sue had been walking. It was then she realised what she had done…that she had left Sue behind.

She knew what she had to do…and she knew how hard it was going to be. Completely unarmed, there was nothing she could do to protect Sue. There were so many of them, and only one of her. She stopped thinking, knowing that if she stopped to think about what she was doing, she would never be able to do it. There was nothing else she could do…at least that's what she told herself. She began sprinting up the road, abandoning the only person she had left in the world so she could save herself.

Opening her eyes now, Carrie longed to never dwell on that night again. She had intentionally not thought of Sue for months now, forever carrying the weight of her decision to abandon her. Though rationally she knew it was the only thing she could do, that she would have wanted Sue to do the same if the situations were reversed, the reality of it was more difficult to accept.

Moving very slowly, she pushed herself upright and sat on the edge of the bunk, groaning as the world came up to greet her. Rubbing her eyes, she found her canteen and took a long drink of water, quenching her awful thirst. Allowing herself a few minutes to sit quietly, she sought out her boots and pulled them on, grabbing the jacket that had been loaned to her. Finding the few toiletry items she had, she slowly pulled back the sheet across her cell door and let the full sunlight stream in. Standing in the doorway of her cell, she tried not to groan at how bright the light was, how it pained her eyes.

"G'morning," she mumbled, seeing that Carl was awake already. He was at the long table outside his cell, perched on one of the stools with his crutches within easy reach. Looking up at her, his hands stilled on the gun he had pulled apart, a cleaning kit open on the table next to him.

"Are you hung over?" he asked in amusement, not bothering to hide his smile.

Aware of how strict Rick was about Carl swearing, Carrie wondered what an appropriate response would be. Seeing her hesitation, Carl laughed.

"It's okay…Dad's going to be hung over too."

"Oh?" she asked, starting to walk past him.

"Yeah, look," he prompted her, indicating over his shoulder.

Following his direction, Carrie curiously peered into Rick's cell, her mouth curling in amusement at what she saw. Rick was sprawled out on the floor of the cell, his boots poking out from underneath the blanket he must have pulled from the top bunk.

"Poor guy," she said sympathetically, remembering his unsteadiness the night before. With another smile, she began to remember a little more from the night before. "Shouldn't you close the sheet? Block out the light for him?"

"Nah," Carl grinned, turning back to the hand gun. "Let him suffer."

Shaking her head to herself, Carrie headed off to the bathrooms, desperately needing to relieve herself. Freshening up, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, pausing a little as she looked at a mark on her neck. The flashlight didn't exactly make for great lighting, but in the cracked mirror she could just make out a pink bruise on her neck, one that hadn't been there the day before. Feeling a little bashful, she recalled the tingle of Rick's lips against her neck, the way it had made her feel when he brushed his teeth and tongue across her skin. He had marked her up, probably unintentionally given that it was only light, but it was definitely from him. The bruises left over from the car accident were days old now, and definitely not the colour she was assessing now.

She began dragging a comb through her hair, trailing her fingers through the long lengths and hating them immensely. She had never been one for long hair, perhaps wired that way because her mother had loved it. It was normally cut above her shoulders, the length manageable for early morning rushes and easy to style for professional meetings. These days it was long and in poor condition, constantly getting in the way. Neatening it as best she could, she wondered if the pink bruise on her neck was noticeable to anyone else.

Rejoining Carl, she watched as he methodically went about cleaning both of his guns, checking the rounds and ensuring his spares were ready. His new duty belt was laid out on the table beside him, almost matching his father's, and it was clear that he loved it. Ever polite, he offered to teach Carrie how to clean hers, but she refused him as kindly as possible. When they had finished clearing the tombs, she had handed her gun to Rick, ignoring him when he tried to give it back. She didn't want it on her person, not when she didn't absolutely need it. Even if she did need it, she preferred her knife.

By the time she was working through her second cup of tea, the rest of the group were rousing, Tobin dispensing Tylenol and coffee to those afflicted by hang overs. Everyone who passed by Rick's cell stopped to laugh at him, everyone except Glenn who despite being upright, looked about as good as a Walker. His complexion was grey and clammy, his shoulders heaving as Nicholas took a seat next to him with a mug of steaming coffee.

"Not feeling so hot, Glenn?" he asked loudly, clapping him on the shoulder.

Folding his arms on the table, Glenn put his head down and closed his eyes. "Go away…" he moaned.

Carrie took great delight in Glenn's suffering, needing a few laughs after the terrible way she had slept last night. Those less afflicted set about making breakfast for the others, Carrie graciously accepting a cup of boiled oats that even had a drizzle of syrup. The food was perfect for her queasy stomach, even Glenn managing to raise his head and choke down a few mouthfuls. With most of them recovering they ate breakfast in a companionable manner, each of them aware that they had missed their intended departure time for King County.

It was eight thirty by the time Rick roused from the floor, exceptionally late by his standards. Everyone seated at the table went quiet, craning their necks and looking into the cell as Rick sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he first looked into the empty bed beside him, his eyes clearly seeking out Carl. Looking around blearily, he gave a short nod to himself when he saw his son sitting at the table outside. There was a long pause now, Rick squinting as he noticed everyone watching him.

"What?" he grunted.

They broke into laughter, the sound making Glenn groan in pain and put his head back down again. Rick slowly untangled his long limbs from the blankets and got to his feet, rubbing his forehead as he woke up properly.

"What's so funny?"

"Dad," Carl began with a grin. "Did you pass out last night?"

Raising an eyebrow, Rick glared at him as he came out of his cell, his boots dragging along the ground. "No," he said tersely.

"But you came in and just lay down…"

Clearly uncomfortable with his son's line of questioning, Rick grimaced and then cleared his throat. "I couldn't get to the top bunk…I decided to sleep on the floor. That's all."

Concluding with a stern glare, he took his toothbrush and headed off for the bathrooms, stretching out his arms as he departed. It was quite some time before he returned, and judging by the way his hair and collar were dripping he had spent a while with his head under the shower. He looked a little better, but dark shadows still lingered under his eyes, his face pale. Taking a cup of coffee from Abraham, Rick sank onto one of the stools next to Glenn, breathing deeply before he dared to take a sip.

Pretending to watch Carl, whose hands deftly reassembled his weapons with ease, Carrie cast her eyes on Rick, trying not to smile. Emboldened by the wine she had already consumed, Carrie took a chance last night, knowing the only thing she was gambling was her pride. If she made a fool of herself, it would only be in front of Rick. Smiling as she looked at him now, staring deep into his mug of coffee, she knew the previous night had been a pleasant surprise. She wasn't going to say no to a kiss from a good looking man, even if he did seem to have a certain air of apprehension at first.

Enjoying the way his hand wound into her hair, his other tentatively touching her leg, Carrie was consciously aware of the fact that she was okay with it. A part of her had expected not to be, despite the knowledge that she had sought him out for exactly that. Given all that had happened to her in the past few months alone, it was difficult to trust men…but despite the doubts Glenn had unwittingly given her, she felt comfortable with Rick. Just like she was attracted to him, he felt the same way, the lingering stares and sensual kisses making that clear. His cautious touch had only fuelled her desire, even when he had roughly pressed her against the bars of the cell when a moment of need struck him.

For a moment there she thought he might keep going, his mouth pressing searing kisses to her neck that made her knees feel weak. They were going into her cell, the small space allowing for some privacy, but to her disappointment they had stopped. Distracted when he dropped his flashlight, Rick's expression reminded her of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. In hindsight it was a good thing that he had departed to his own cell. A drunken one night stand with the leader of her new group? Probably not the greatest idea.

Thinking about the mark on her neck, Carrie hoped Rick got the opportunity to mark her up properly, that he really did want her as badly as she wanted him. It had been a while since she had been properly intimate with anyone. At the start of all this she'd had a brief and ultimately disappointing one night stand with one of the guys in her group. Rather than satiating her craving for intimacy, the outcome had left her more unsatisfied that she had been to start with. Her experiences with men after that had put her off sex and intimacy completely, no doubt about that. Last night with Rick, however…well it was nice to be kissed in the first place, but to be kissed with such desire was another thing.

Remembering Daryl's comment that Rick was trashed, Carrie knew better than to let herself get her hopes up too far. He might feel differently when sober reality returned, and he might no longer return her desires. Once upon a time this might have bothered her, that someone would kiss her when they were drunk and then not again the next morning, but not these days. Though she would be disappointed, she couldn't hold it against him.

With slow realisation, she saw that Rick was looking at her from the corner of his eye. How long had they both been looking at each other? Thinking about how disappointed she had been when he had stopped last night, she tried to judge what he might be thinking, coming only to the conclusion that he would be a challenging opponent in a game of poker. His expression gave nothing away, not a single indication of what he was thinking. The lack of information only intrigued Carrie even more, making her urgently want to know what he thought. Breaking his eye contact, Carrie shook her head to herself. She was a grown woman, not a fifteen year old school girl.

"Mornin'," Daryl muttered, sauntering into the cell block from outside. He glanced at Rick and Glenn, turning up his nose at them. "You two could scare the flies off a Walker."

"Gee, thanks," Glenn sighed in defeat.

"Christ." Daryl looked at Glenn more closely, pulling a disgusted face. "I think I'm gon' lose my breakfast just lookin' at yah…"

Glenn moaned now, putting his forehead into his hand and pushing away his cup of oatmeal. "Me too…Rick, you want the rest?"

Shaking his head, Rick shifted his stool away from Glenn. "If you're going to puke, do it outside," he requested weakly.

Hunched over, Glenn staggered to his feet and headed off, Aaron reluctantly following him out to help. Unconcerned, Daryl took Glenn's seat and finished the rest of his oatmeal. Nothing went to waste.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Rick asked him. They had a long and potentially dangerous day ahead, and they all needed to be fully prepared.

Daryl shook his head. "Nope…Rosita just took over now. I'll sleep on the drive. You?"

"Yeah," Rick breathed, glancing at Carrie. The hint of a smile betrayed his thoughts, and she responded in kind. His eyes flicked down, looking at the pink mark on her neck as his eyes widened. The mug halfway to his mouth, his lips parted in surprise before he took a sip.

"Good thing I took over watch, eh?" Daryl pondered. "What with the way you two were carryin' on…"

Rick coughed into his mug, his eyes widening as he looked at Daryl in horror. Carrie too frowned…she had assumed the two of them had an unspoken agreement to ignore anything Daryl did or didn't catch them doing last night.

"…gigglin' like school girls," Daryl finished, not noticing Rick's alarm.

Looking at the others, Carrie was relieved to see that only Michonne appeared to have been paying attention to Rick's reaction. She looked at Carrie with a question in her eyes,but unwilling to answer it just yet, she quickly looked away.

"What were you giggling about?" Carl asked with a frown, finishing his reassembly and sliding the magazine into place.

"Er," Rick began, clearing his throat. He glanced up at her, a flicker of panic in his eyes.

"Your nut allergy," she teased, remembering the story Rick had told her a few days ago.

Carl's eyes narrowed at his father, clearly stung. "You promised you'd stop telling people about that."

"Sorry," Rick muttered, looking down at the table. With a low sigh, he sipped at his coffee, clearly suffering for the drinks he had enjoyed. He suddenly pulled a face, pushing his coffee away.

"Who's staying back with me today?" Carl asked, his voice filled with disappointment that he couldn't go on the supply run to his home town. "Glenn?"

"I'd say so," Rick nodded, glancing over at Carrie again. "You'll have to look after him."

Carl scoffed playfully. "Isn't he meant to look after me?"

"Yes." Finishing his coffee, Rick slowly got to his feet, brushing his damp hair back off his face. He grimaced, swaying as his shoulder's heaved a little. "We're leaving in half an hour."

"You sure about that?" Abraham questioned, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"Yes," Rick insisted. "Everyone's responsible for organising their own riot gear, radios, weapons, food and water."

"You heard the man," Abraham's voice boomed louder than necessary. "Asses into gear!"

Nodding in satisfaction, Rick's shoulder's heaved again as his hand drifted towards his mouth. Glancing down at Carl, he desperately tried to hide how awful he felt, clinging to what dignity he had left. "I'm just gonna, go…" he cleared his throat, heading off awkwardly. "You know…"

"Throw up?" Aidan supplied.

Not even trying to deny it, Rick made a quick disappearance into the common room, the sound of creaking metal indicating he sought refuge in the dark tombs beyond. Laughing in amusement, and insisting they had plenty more time than Rick's deadline of half an hour, Abraham began assigning various tasks. Reminded of what they were each responsible to bring, everyone departed the long table and headed off in various directions. Quickly tidying up the breakfast items, Carrie hastened to get herself ready, pulling on one of the padded shirts and finding her riot gear. Like a well oiled machine, the rest of the group were quick to organise themselves, and it was Carrie could do to keep up with them. Catching her eye, Michonne motioned to some bottled water and a few items of food, indicating that she had collected them on her behalf. Thanking her from the other side of the cell block, Carrie quickly avoided her eye and made sure Michonne didn't get her alone somewhere.

She liked Michonne, but knew that she was going to want details of the previous night. Already Michonne was watching both she and Rick like a hawk, trying to get meaning from everything they said and did. Soon enough the group appeared ready, Abraham ushering Carrie outside and sending her over to the haphazard gazebo where Carl and Rick stood by the long table. Like earlier that morning, it seemed Rick had spent a little more time with his head under the shower, but he appeared to have recovered a little. The colour had returned to his face, and he was tentatively eating a stale Pop Tart.

"Abraham sent me over," she stated, working to keep her face straight.

Rick too appeared to be keeping a straight face, and he politely nodded at her. Spread out on the table were an array of hand guns and rifles. "Take this one," he said, passing her the hand gun she had used the day they retook the prison.

"Do you want a rifle?" Carl asked, slinging one around his shoulder even though he wasn't going that day.

"No, thanks," she shook her head, reluctantly accepting the hand gun.

She didn't even want that one, but she didn't refuse it, knowing Rick would insist on it. Taking the spare magazines he handed her, she tucked them into her pockets and made a quick departure. A strange look crossed his face as she left, and she hoped he didn't think she was trying to avoid him. Quite the opposite, really, but she didn't want to run the risk he would try giving her a second gun, a second burden for her to worry about having to use. Her knife and machete were more than enough anyway, but she humoured his request.

Heading out to the courtyard, she took a look at the various pots of soil and roots that were out to dry in the morning sun. Looking into the soil, she was disappointed to see no green shoots poking up from the roots that had planted the day before, though she knew it didn't work like that. The morning spent in the gardens with Rick had been pleasant, and she was surprised by how much she had learnt from him. The work itself was relaxing, Carrie getting a jolt of satisfaction with every plant transplanted into a pot or every root cut off to soak in water. She heard Rick telling Carl to keep an eye on the plants while they were gone that day, to move the delicate roots inside if the weather got too cool. Perhaps tomorrow they would plant them in seedling trays.

Soon enough everyone else was ready to go, Tobin going from the sedan, to the minivan and then to the Hyundai to make sure they all had spare gas, food and water. As Rick predicted, Glenn had volunteered to stay back with Carl, and the two of them stood by and watched as their group prepared to leave, Glenn still looking a little green. The others separated themselves with ease, instinctually knowing how to divide themselves according to strength and skill. As usual Carrie hung back a little, waiting for instruction on which car to go in.

"You feel like driving today?" Rick asked tentatively, gesturing to the green Hyundai.

Surprised by his forwardness, Carrie hesitated before nodding in agreement. "Not up to it?"

Shaking his head, Rick passed her the keys and then asked for a few moments. Depositing her chest plate and helmet onto the back seat beside Rick's, she waved to Glenn before taking the driver's seat, moving it back a little before adjusting the mirrors. It appeared no one else was joining them in that car, and so she waited by herself as Rick embraced Carl, having a few words before departing. There was always the possibility that he may not return from this supply run, but they seemed to disregard this, simply saying a quick goodbye.

She started the engine as he joined her in the passenger seat, and Carrie was surprised to find she didn't quite know where to look. She felt a little nervous in his presence, consciously aware of what had transpired the previous night. It was difficult to keep a straight face, her lips wanting to curl into a smile as she remembered the way he pressed against her, his arousal obvious by the slight bulge she felt against her hip. Dwelling on this, she automatically glanced over at his crotch before she even realised what she was doing. Looking away in embarrassment, she hoped he didn't see her doing that.

Glenn followed them down to the gates, letting the three cars pass through with a quick wave before closing the gates behind them, securing the prison once again. It felt strange to be driving a car, though the skill returned to her with ease, giving her a sense of comfort and control as she drove. The convoy set off down the winding road they had travelled two days prior, Rick silent as he peered out the passenger window. Carrie let out a slow breath, feeling awkward tension filling the car as she glanced at him. His jaw was clenched, and he was very clearly making an effort to not look over at her.

"Why is your car always last?" she enquired, needing to break the silence. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she was pleased to see a note of amusement on his face.

"You're very perceptive," he commented, not for the first time.

"Yes."

There was a pregnant pause before he answered. "It started that I drove last, because Carl was in the car with me. Now it's just everyone's subtle way of trying to look after me."

She nodded, her curiosity satisfied.

"It's excessive…but I can't expect that I can look after them if I won't accept the same."

She smiled. "You're a very good leader."

"Sometimes," he commented cryptically. He glanced over at her for a brief moment. "But I'm glad I fooled you."

"I'm no fool. You always struggle to take a compliment?"

Laughing in embarrassment, he nodded his head. "Yes."

"We'll work on that."

He laughed again, resting his elbow up on the window sill. His right hand restlessly scratched the stubble on his jaw as they drove, and silence lingered once again. She could tell he wanted to say something to her, but she let him stew in his thoughts, suspecting he would speak when he was ready. Instead she focused her attention on the road, enjoying the task at hand as she let her mind wander.

"Carrie," he finally began a short while later, still scratching his jaw. "Last night…"

"Last night…"

"We're two unattached adults," he began, the words rolling off his tongue like a sigh of relief. "We can do whatever we want."

"Yes," she agreed.

"Just…not that."

"Because you don't want to?" she asked, hoping to clarify.

"I - I never said that," he said awkwardly, looking at her. For a second time his eyes flicked down to her neck, looking at the pink mark he had left. "Uhh…"

She let him trail off, secretly pleased by his answer. Watching him flounder for a moment, she smiled at the way he tried to articulate whatever it was he was thinking, clearly trying his best. Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to the woods outside the window, focusing on that for a few minutes.

"It's just, that…"

"Rick," she cut over him, putting him out of his misery. "It's okay. You don't have to explain."

He gave her a long look, not quite sure what to make of this statement. Accepting what she said, he gave a short nod and turned back, his shoulders relaxing a little.

"I won't lie," she continued. "I'm disappointed, obviously."

This remark appeared to take him by surprise, and he turned around again. "Disappointed?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Last night was…nice."

"Nice," he repeated, testing the word in his mouth. "No. Last night was…a little more than nice," he admitted.

Smiling at this, she continued. "I'm glad you think so."

There was a short silence, the undeniable tension crackling between them. His eyes kept darting over to her, taking in her expression and trying to read her body language as she attempted the same thing. It was clear Rick was attracted to her, he had all but admitted that. Nevertheless, it didn't necessarily mean he wanted to do anything about it. He was a widow after all. If Judith's first birthday was coming up, then it hadn't even been a year since his wife's death. She had no idea what type of grief he felt for her…whether her death felt as fresh as the day it had happened, or whether it felt like ten years had passed. Suddenly Carrie felt irresponsible, as though she had been pressing Rick into something he didn't actually want.

"I have a question," she said, wishing she could look at him properly. "Last night…would you agree that I made the first move?"

He considered this question, furrowing his brow as he looked at her intently. "Yes," he agreed. "You made the first move."

"Alright then," she concluded. Pausing, she wondered how best to phrase her statement. "In that case, the next move is yours."

"Sorry?" he said in confusion.

"The next move is yours," she clarified. "Whatever that may be."

"It's my move?"

The question seemed to hang in the air between them, Rick slowly beginning to understand what was being offered to him. She was putting the ball entirely in his court. If he wanted to do anything about their attraction to one another, he was free to do so. If not, didn't have to do anything.

"Yes, Derrick," she concluded, smiling at the way his eyes narrowed at the use of his full name. "It's your move."

He laughed shortly, his mouth twisted into wry smile as he looked away. "Alright, Carlene…I…errr…" he struggled to articulate what he was thinking, trailing off when he realised she was laughing at him. "You're enjoying this?"

"Yes," she admitted. "Very much so."

"It's been a while since I was tongue tied."

His admission was more than what it seemed, and she understood what he meant. "Yeah, me too."

Nodding slowly, he looked back at the woods, but the ghost of a smile still lingered on his face. Having said all they needed to, they continued the rest of the drive in silence, but it was a comfortable silence this time. A short while later she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, amused to find him sprawled out with his head back, fast asleep. She laughed to herself as a memory from her former life came back to her, the image of her uncomfortable ex-husband who never quite liked being the passenger in a car. Whether Rick was comfortable with her driving or desperate for sleep, Carrie didn't quite care. When there was a long stretch of straight road, she daringly looked over at him, her eyes tracing his handsome features as she dwelled on the previous night.

Longing for him to make a move, Carrie sighed and focused her attention back on the road.


	16. Chapter 16

As it always did, morning in the prison dawned early, the first rays of light streaming through the windows of C Block and straight into the cells. Though the blankets covering their cells blocked most of the light, there was always just enough to rouse Rick the moment dawn came. The rising of the sun was the clock he lived by, needing to take advantage of every hour of daylight available to him. Judith was the same, always rousing at the same time Rick did, wide awake and ready for the day. Though it had been over a week since he had seen her, it still felt strange that he wake up without her sleeping in her crib nearby, or more often than not beside him in the bed. Waking up in his prison cell aroused the instinct to tend to Judith, to change her diaper and prepare her breakfast before her fussing woke anyone up. It was strange that he didn't need to care for her right now…that Beth wouldn't be taking over shortly.

Not including their arrival, this would be their third day at the prison, and more than likely their last. Packing up the prison had been a faster process than they anticipated, almost entirely completed within their first day. The second day, yesterday, had seen them visiting King County, where they had gone seeking out Morgan. The thought of him brought up waves of sadness that still weighed on Rick's chest. Upon arriving in King County, their convoy had gone straight for the street Morgan had barricaded, but they hadn't even stepped out of the cars before Rick knew Morgan wasn't there anymore.

There were dozens of Walkers impaled on his protective spikes, their arms flailing and jaws snapping as the group of armoured people walked past them. If Morgan was still alive, he would have put them down and burnt the Walkers within the day. Needing to be absolutely sure, Rick and Michonne entered Morgan's apartment alone, calling out to him as they watched their step. By the time they reached the first floor, Rick's heart had filled with relief…joy, even.

Morgan was alive. He wasn't there, waiting to greet them upon arrival, but he was somewhere, that much Rick was certain of. The deadly traps were gone, the axe hanging behind the curtain in the doorway taken down. The apartment was packed up, the arsenal of weapons and supplies neatly arranged and organised for others to scavenge. Although he hadn't found Morgan, Rick had felt a sense of peace to accompany his sadness. Morgan wasn't dead. Perhaps he had hit the road, maybe heading for the prison. It had been almost a year since Rick had visited him…Judith was only a newborn. Judging by the amount of dust in the apartment, Morgan was long gone. He could be anywhere, he could even be dead, but Rick clung to the possibility that he was still alive.

It was with a mixture of disappointment and relief that Rick instructed the others to start clearing the apartment, everyone astounded by the sheer volume of supplies, weapons and ammunition. The removal truck back at the prison was already generously stocked with weapons Rick and Glenn had taken from the police station and the prison, and Morgan's would almost double it. Nevertheless, they didn't call it a day on their supply run to King County. Although Morgan's generous stock pile of medical supplies, drugs and equipment signalled that he had cleared the local hospital, Abraham insisted they check it out anyway, bearing a list of equipment Pete and Denise had made requests for.

They had visited the hospital next, unsurprised to find that it was completely cleared of Walkers. Morgan had grief to work through, and a whole lot of time. Rick had no doubt he had cleared out the entire hospital, just like he had cleared out the tombs after Lori's death. It would have taken quite some time, the job completed section by section, but Morgan had succeeded. Spray painted across every entrance to the hospital were the words "Clear", indicating the potential sanctuary inside.

The hospital was just as he remembered it, though his memories after waking up from a coma were sketchy at best. Proceeding to the third floor, Rick had eventually found the ward where he had been recovering, feeling deja vu as he walked down the corridor to his room. The emergency exit lights had completely failed by now, plunging the entire hospital into darkness, making the atmosphere even more eerie. Old blood and bullet holes littered almost every corridor, but the corridors had been cleared of corpses.

Standing in the hallway and taking into account the damage, Rick tried to picture Shane being forced to leave him behind. Despite all that had happened between the two of them, Rick had no doubt Shane had tried. Looking in every room, Rick finally found the one he had awoken in. His eyes first fell upon the bed and the mussed up sheets, next taking notice of the blue vase. Remembering Shane's concerned face peering down at him, he recalled that Shane had brought it to him.

He got the sudden urge to knock it over.

They had left the hospital not long after that, the others finding surgical tools, equipment and monitors in the surgical wards that Morgan hadn't scavenged. Loading up, they prepared to head back to the prison, their work that day largely successful. At the last minute, Rick decided to make a detour to somewhere else in town, leading the other cars down a very familiar street.

Stopping out the front of his old house, Rick peered up at the facade with a strange sense of detachment. The front and side wall was still standing despite the fire, large parts off the roof too. Looking up and down the street, he took note of the other burnt out houses, but felt nothing. Leaving Carrie alone in the car, Rick headed for what was left of the home he and Lori had worked so hard for. Carl's tyre swing in the front yard now lay in the long grass, the house numbers now black instead of the shiny gold ones Lori brought back from the hardware store. Rick knew he shouldn't go inside, that it was structurally unsound, but he needed to see if it was safe enough to bring Carl back there. He had promised him that once they knew the town was safe enough, he would bring Carl back here before they left…if he wanted to go that was.

Taking care, he walked through the blackened and crumbled remains of his home, still perfectly able to articulate what everything was, recalling the way it had looked before. The fire damage was extensive, what was left of the house blackened with charcoal and the floor of his and Lori's bedroom having collapsed into the basement below. Treading with care, he peered into the gaping chasm that was once the basement, seeing the ruined remains of their bed and wardrobe. Moving on, he slowly made his way down the hall, passing what was left of Carl's bedroom. Mindful of the unstable floor, he stepped inside and looked for anything salvageable, for something Carl might like to have returned. There was little left that wasn't charred, melted or water damaged from rain.

Remembering the way it had once been, he continued on through the rest of the house. The living and dining room to his right was fairly untouched except for smoke and rain, though the kitchen and Lori's office at the back were destroyed. Moving on, Rick headed into the back yard, relishing in the familiarity of the scene. This area had been unaffected by the fire, the back deck still standing. He and Shane had built that over a decade ago, a weekend involving a case of beer and broken toe. If his memory served him correctly, in the photo album was a picture of Carl at three years old wearing a plastic hard hat and tool belt. Determined to help, he had amused himself by tapping his toy hammer against the wooden deck, his mere presence on a haphazard build making Rick tense with worry. Shane of course just laughed at his worries, never quite understanding.

Heading further into the backyard, he walked past the rear garage and looked at the back fence. With a long sigh, Rick was annoyed that he could see the roofline of the bungalow behind them. A few years after Rick and Lori had purchased their house, Shane had inherited his father's estate and gone house hunting, rounding up Rick to help him of course. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, Shane had instantly said yes to the first house he looked at, making an offer on it before noticing the best feature of the property…it was directly behind Rick's. Lori had joked that they should build a gate, noting that Shane spent enough time at their place anyway. Much to her exasperation, Shane had taken her seriously.

Opening the gate and looking into Shane's backyard, Rick couldn't help but feel petty resentment. It was still standing, completely untouched, while Rick's was half burnt to the ground.

"Fucking typical," he swore bitterly, knowing Carl wasn't around to hear him. Hung over and stressed out, he promptly left.

Laying in his bunk, his cell painfully quiet without the sound of Judith's soft breathing, Rick stared up at the underside of the top bunk. He wanted to go back to sleep, having only had a few hours after being relieved of watch duty halfway through the night, but he knew he was only wasting time. Turning on his flashlight, he set it on the bed beside him so that it shone upward, illuminating the picture that he had fixed on the underside of the bunk above. The picture of he, Lori and Carl used to reside under the sun visor of the police car he drove, but had been relocated after the others went on the supply run back to the Greene farm. In the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep or when he was awake with Judith, Rick would lay there and look at it, feeling the familiar pang of loneliness.

He told himself often that he was being stupid, that he shouldn't feel lonely when he had so much. Both of his children were alive and healthy, and he was surrounded by a ready made family…and yet it wasn't enough. It took him a long time to get used to Lori's absence, to come around to the fact that she wasn't going to walk through his cell door, that she was never returning. Until then, Rick had ever truly been able to comprehend the true loneliness of being widowed, nor the immense regret that stung his heart every time he thought of how bad things had been between them. He had been stupid enough to believe that they had time, that all he had to do was find somewhere safe for their family and then things would be alright. They would work on their marriage, they would say what needed to be said, and then move on. The knowledge that he was to blame for that never occurring was almost as awful as the loneliness it burdened him with.

Giving up on the idea of sleeping, Rick sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He gave a weary sigh as his body protested against the movement, the muscles in his shoulders and neck strained from their poor treatment over the last few days. The effects of the car accident still lingered, his left arm now black with bruises from where Carl had been kicking him. The bruise on the side of his face was also nicely developed, having turned an unsightly shade of green the day before. Increasingly battle weary, Rick dressed and secured his duty belt around his waist, habitually checking each of his weapons before departing his cell.

Ever concerned about his son, Rick paused by Carl's cell next to his and pulled the sheet back a little and listened. His breathing was as familiar to Rick as Judith's, and without looking he could tell that Carl was still fast asleep. When the dust had settled, Carl seemed to recover well from his gunshot, benefitting from the use of Herschel's old crutches. Despite this however, he was still in considerable pain, his mood low and patience thin. When they had returned from King Country the day before, Rick had followed through on his promise to take Carl back there…but he hadn't wanted to go. Rick was walking a fine line with Carl at the moment, wanting to care for and look after him, but not wanting to drive him crazy. Letting him sleep, he closed the sheet and quietly departed.

Wondering who was on watch, Rick marched through the common room and headed for the outside door, completely missing the only other person who was awake this early in the morning.

"What are you doing up at the ass crack of dawn?"

Carrie's voice penetrated the early morning silence, making Rick lurch in surprise. He paused on the threshold of the stairs and turned back to her. She sat at one of the round tables, a mug of tea in her hands as she perused a novel from the library.

"You've been spending too much time around Daryl," he commented dryly, avoiding her question. "What are you doing up at the ass crack of dawn?"

Raising her eyebrow at him, Carrie lowered her mug. "I just came off watch…remember?"

Rick felt immensely stupid. Surely he could have come to that conclusion on his own? After all, Carrie had been the one to relieve him of watch duty in the middle of the night. That had been a most awkward encounter, both acutely aware of their close proximity in the guard tower where they had first kissed. Avoiding eye contact, Rick had just handed her the rifle and floodlight as he tried to slip past her on the narrow balcony. It was impossible not to brush against her as he went past, and even more so impossible to not do it intentionally.

Sometime during the previous day, when the two of them had driven back from King County, Rick had come to the slow realisation that he wanted to kiss her again. Carrie had put the ball entirely in his court…she was waiting for him to make a move. With that in mind, he began to long for just one more kiss, perhaps one that tasted a little less like red wine and more of something primal, something lustful. The desire to kiss her had started small, just a thought that had distracted him for a minute, and had then haunted him ever since. He had hardly concentrated the rest of the day, his mind caught up in how he might initiate such a kiss, in how he could get her alone for long enough. Thoughts of kissing her were a pleasant distraction from everything else.

"Right." Giving her a short nod, he took note of the mug of green tea she held in her hands. "I thought you were a coffee drinker."

Carrie scoffed. "That instant crap? No thank you, I'll stick to tea."

He shook his head. "Instant coffee is crap as opposed to green tea?"

"Have you ever even tried it?" she enquired, her question stopping him as he made to go outside.

Looking back, he saw that she was holding the mug out to him, a polite offering that he taste it. Pausing, he considered her offer, trying to determine if there was anything other than politeness behind it. It was just a friendly gesture, right? As they had all of yesterday, his eyes drew to the small pink bruise on her neck. He had accidentally marked her skin the other night, caught up in the heat of the drunken moment, and since he had seen it he couldn't stop looking at it.

Not saying a word, he crossed the common room to where she was sitting, looking at her before peering into the mug. The yellow liquid looked innocent enough, and so he took it from her and raised it to his lips. Maggie had taken a liking to herbal tea since settling into Alexandria…surely it couldn't be that bad.

"Eugh," he grimaced, a small amount of the warm liquid passing his lips. His face contorting, he quickly handed the mug of tea back to her. "Tastes like boiled grass."

"You familiar with the taste of bold grass?" she questioned, smirking at him. Resuming her hold on the mug, she took a sip from the same place Rick had.

Rick tried not to look like he was escaping. "I'll stick to the coffee. Thanks," he said, opening the door. "Get some sleep before we head out."

He didn't hear her reply, stepping outside and closing the door quickly. Pausing for a moment, he grimaced again at the awful taste, wondering if this is how Carl felt when he had tried his wine the other night. The morning air was crisp, making Rick readjust his jacket and wish he had stayed long enough to make a cup of coffee. As he crossed the courtyard, Rick looked back at the destroyed walkway…every now and then he still expected to see Lori standing up there, her belly round with pregnancy as he watched him. He hadn't seen her since he had brought back to Woodbury survivors, and he didn't see her again today. They would be departing early tomorrow….he would never see her up there again, nor would he run off chasing her through the woods.

Reaching the bottom of the guard tower, he looked up to see Michonne's legs dangling over the balcony. Entering, he joined her at the top and groaned in discomfort as he sat down beside her.

"Old age?"

"I think so," he sighed, rolling his shoulders. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Seeing he was tired, she passed him her mug of coffee. Taking it gratefully, her gesture furthered the notion that Carrie sharing her drink was just a friendly gesture.

"Have you considered taking up Yoga?"

Rick narrowed his eyes at her. Was this a jibe about Carrie? Had he been that obvious the other day, when he had walked past the three of them in the courtyard?

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she shrugged innocently. "It might loosen you up a little."

He coughed as he swallowed a sip of coffee, the second time in two days that a seemingly innocent comment had made him do that. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "I might leave that to you." Returning her mug to her, he sighed and looked out across the lower field. There were six Walkers impaled on the spikes, and a dead one by the gardens that had somehow managed to get through.

"You feeling okay?" Michonne asked in concern, turning serious.

He just nodded, not sure of what to say.

"You don't look like it," she commented, no doubt having critiqued him for the last few days. "Carl either."

"How so?" he enquired, the mention of Carl making him worry.

"He's not himself." Pondering this thought, she scanned the fences.

"Getting shot will do that."

Michonne nodded in agreement, but Rick could tell she was going to continue. "He just doesn't seem himself…even considering where we are."

"I know," Rick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's been…distant, with me. More so than usual."

"Me too."

"Really?" he sighed, his heart sinking even lower. "That's the one thing I've been depending on, that he talks to you. I know he's been struggling to fit in back in Alexandria, to figure out what his place is…"

"He's been sneaking out of the walls."

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"I follow him whenever I see him going."

"I know that too," he smiled at her. "So do I. Is it wrong that I'm secretly proud of how well he does it?"

Laughing, Michonne shook her head. "How long did it take you to figure it out?"

Rick told her about the day Deanna had made them Constables, about how Carl had practically stumbled across him in the woods. "That night, I gave him bit of a mouthful for sneaking out. He said he was sorry, that he'd never do it again….but I knew better. I don't blame him…that's why I agreed to bring him with us here."

"To stop him going stir crazy?"

"Partly…but mostly because I didn't want him wandering off and making Carol or Maggie go chasing after him…"

"You know Enid goes out there too…I saw them outside the walls, hanging out."

"You're joking," he said in disbelief, having not known this. Carl was sneaking out…with a girl?

"I wouldn't joke about that."

Rick sighed in worry, having not expected this. "Are they just friends?"

Nodding, Michonne tried to reassure him. "Yes. For how long they stay just friends, I won't know…I doubt he'll let me in on that."

Giving a short groan, Rick put his head in his hands. It was too early in the morning for this type of problem…couldn't his worst problem just be Walkers on the fences?

"Puberty has hit," Michonne teased, nudging Rick's arm. "And it's not gonna stop, either."

"He's only fourteen…I am not prepared for this."

"Soon enough you two are going to have to, you know…talk."

"We have," he assured her, thinking back to the conversation he and Carl had after the farm fell. "When he found Lori was pregnant, he was…curious."

"How did that go?"

"It was surprisingly easy…I explained the basics, answered a couple of questions."

"If he's sneaking out with a girl, he's going to need to hear more than the basics," Michonne warned him. "Contraception, the responsibility of-"

"He's too young to hear all that," he grimaced, biting the inside of his cheek. "Isn't he?"

"I don't know," she shrugged apologetically. "You're his father…that's for you to lose sleep over, not me."

He could only nod in agreement, adding this to his list of worries. "Would it be bad parenting if I asked Daryl to talk to him about these things?"

Michonne laughed loudly. "Yes. It would be."

"Christ," he muttered, laughing along with her.

"Don't avoid it for too long," she instructed him. "Normally he would have learnt half of that stuff from his friends, or the Internet…he's been lacking in both."

"Yes." Picking up Michonne's coffee, he helped himself to another sip, needing something to do with his hands. "I was going to talk to him a little while back…after what happened the night before Terminus." The amusement died from Michonne's face, their conversation turning serious. "I just…with everything that happened, and then I just didn't get the opportunity. So much happened so quickly."

"You need to make the opportunity," Michonne told him. "That night's affected him."

"I know," he admitted. "I've seen what he's like with the others."

"Other men?"

Rick nodded. "The other day when I told he'd be working on the cars with Tobin…I could tell he wasn't happy until I said Daryl was helping too. You can just see that he's on edge with men he doesn't know…he doesn't trust them."

"Yes."

"Do you think he understood what was going to happen that night?" he asked, voicing the question that had weighed on his mind ever since the attack. Carl had been scared, had fought to protect himself…but did he know exactly what he was protecting himself from?

"Probably," she answered.

"Yeah," Rick agreed, knowing she was right. But the knowledge that Carl probably understood what was going to happen to him didn't give him any comfort at all.

"You okay?" Michonne enquired, reaching over and grasping his hand. "That night was awful…for you too. Having to watch that, not able to do anything."

He didn't answer, not willing to let himself regress back to that night any more than absolutely necessary. The panic was indescribable, the knowledge of what those animals wanted to do to his child leaving him more helpless than he had ever been.

"The BigSpot, today," he pondered out loud. "Do you think we'll find much left?"

Understanding why he changed the subject, Michonne didn't push it. "It looked clear when we gassed up the other day…Depends on the damage inside."

Thinking about their plans, Rick felt the familiar flicker of annoyance, knowing it was another debate he had lost. Given that the purpose of this run was in fact, supplies, Aidan's request that they go back to the store to check it out was not unreasonable. That's what had annoyed Rick, the absolute reasonableness of the request he didn't want to honour. As Aidan argued, the efforts made to get all the way down to Georgia were substantial…leaving without checking The BigSpot would be ridiculous.

"We should get ready," he muttered, checking the time. "We'll be leaving in an hour."

"Who's staying behind with Carl?"

Straightening up, Rick sighed as he thought about this. Originally he planned to have Carl by his side almost all the time, participating in their supply run within certain parameters. He hadn't expected to need a baby sitter every time their group left the safety of the prison, that Carl would get hurt so badly he couldn't protect himself. He glanced down at Michonne, her question going unanswered.

"You know I would stay," she began. "But-"

"We need you," he cut her off.

"Yes."

Thinking about it, Rick came to a conclusion. "I'll ask Rosita if she'll stay."

"We could always bring him with us? Have him wait in the car?"

Rick shook his head immediately. "No…only the truck would give him any protection, and it uses too much gas. We're only taking the cars today. I'll ask Rosita."

The decision made, Rick departed. Crossing the courtyard back towards C Block, he rubbed his forehead wearily. His tolerance during this supply run was already stretched thin, impatient by their staggered travelling and slow progress here. This was their third day here at the prison, and their ninth day into the supply run. Meanwhile, Carol and the others in Alexandria were expecting them home the day after tomorrow. Within a few days they would begin to worry…yet there would be nothing they would be able to do.

Once again feeling the familiar pang of loneliness, Rick consoled himself with the knowledge they would be leaving the following morning. He wanted to get back to Alexandria, to reunite their broken group and see Judith again. With that thought in mind, he set about waking everyone up, wanting to get started sooner rather than later.

* * *

The journey to the BigSpot was comfortable enough, the one hour trip allowing Carrie enough time to adequately catch up on the sleep she had missed by taking second watch. Curled up in the back seat of the minivan, the smell of dried blood on the fabric was an unpleasant reminder of Carl's injury, but nevertheless Carrie slipped off to sleep straight away. Just like the others, she was increasingly tired from the heavy workload they had pushed through the last two days, and she was beginning to find that there was always something else that needed to be done. Unlike the others, however, Carrie was still recovering from four months on her own, living hand to mouth. Mindful of this, she took every available opportunity to get some rest, the others always ensuring she had to enough to eat at every meal.

They arrived at the BigSpot without trouble, their convoy travelling through the small town as Carrie began to rouse. They pulled to a stop in a small shopping complex, the drivers backing the cars up near the gates so that they could quickly depart if they needed to. Stretching out her arms, Carrie stepped out of the minivan and looked around the car park and various other stores, taking note of the Walkers that had noticed their arrival. They slowly approached from all sides, shuffling towards them with interest. She wasn't the only one who had noticed them, but no one was concerned quite yet, most of their interest elsewhere.

The BigSpot was an imposing building, made even more intimidating by the Walkers that pretty much acted like guard dogs. They threw themselves at the fence, growling and reaching for them. Looking only mildly interested, the group set to work, some of them taking the Walkers on the fences, and the others taking those that approached from the other direction. Following Glenn's lead, Carrie drew her machete and set to work, taking the offensive before the Walkers could get closer to their group. They had agreed that morning that they would make do without their protective clothing, not wanting to grow complacent. Carrie had been pleased by this, knowing that she couldn't let herself fall into the habit of depending on her clothing to protect herself from scratches and bites. If she fell out of practice, she would be at a terrible disadvantage if she was ever taken by surprise.

Wrenching her machete out of the last Walker's head, Carrie leant forward with her hands on her knees, panting for breath. Glenn clapped her on the shoulder, praising her effort before ushering her to rejoin the others. Still catching her breath, Carrie rolled her shoulders back as she observed Rick, noting that he looked stressed and unapproachable. Yesterday had been a difficult day for him, having not found the person he was looking for in King County. Compounding that was the visit he had made to his old house…he had returned from there in silence, his face completely impassive.

Listening to he and Abraham outlining their plans, Carrie made a mental note that he hadn't mentioned anything about their kiss. Since they drove together to King County, he had given no acknowledgement that what happened between them happened at all, and she couldn't help but feel disappointed. Rick was an attractive man, and they were both two unattached adults…there was little reason that they not do something about their attraction to one another. God knows Carrie wanted to, the appeal of the idea increasing the longer Rick seemed to pretend it hadn't happened. Still, she kept noticing his occasional glances in her direction, amused by how he so quickly averted his eyes whenever she caught him. Nevertheless she let him be, not wanting to push him for anything he didn't really want. Besides, there were more pressing things than making out with someone.

Following Abraham's lead, the group of ten cleared out the fenced in car park with ease. They took particular care to properly sweep the area, starting at one end and slowly moving towards the other. There were dozens of military vehicles and tents left abandoned, rotting corpses laying amongst them. By the time they declared it clear, they had taken down only three Walkers. But no time was wasted. Quickly confirming that there was little in the way of supplies left in the military tents or vehicles, the group turned their attention to the BigSpot itself, proceeding to the front doors with caution.

They used a kitchen timer to draw out a couple of Walkers, taking them down with skilled efficiency and leaving them where they lay. Wanting to check it out first, Aidan, Abraham and Rick ventured a little way inside, shining their flashlights around while the others hung back and waited. Though they returned in less than a minute, it was a long wait for those left inside, Carrie having no choice but to listen as Glenn recounted their first failed attempt to clear this store.

"Thanks for the Cliff Notes," she joked, reminding Glenn about the horror of realising the prison had been attacked. She still remembered the shock of seeing a tank upon her initial arrival, the sheer disbelief that it was in fact, real.

"You're welcome," he forced a grim smile. "I didn't want the helicopter to freak you out."

"It wouldn't be the craziest thing I've seen," she pondered, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.

Rick and the others returned a few minutes later, giving cautious reassurance that it seemed relatively safe inside.

"No unnecessary risks," Abraham lectured them. "Proceed as if a Walker could bite your inattentive ass any second. Watch your team's back, double check the dead ones, don't go anywhere you haven't shone your flashlight first, and don't open doors without back up. Our priority is to clear remaining Walkers."

There was the usual murmur of assent, and the group quickly divided themselves into groups. Standing by her anyway, Glenn turned to her. "Team up again?"

"Sure," she said in surprise, having thought her less than stellar performance the day they cleared the prison would have put him off.

"Got your gun, your spares?"

Just as she was going to say yes, Carrie looked past Glenn and saw Aidan coming over, a polite smile on his face. Inwardly she cringed, getting the increasing idea that Aidan was nursing a crush on her. He spoke up before Carrie could answer Glenn's question.

"Hey," he greeted them smoothly. "You guys will need a third. It'll be good practice for you and me, Glenn."

"Sure," he acquiesced politely, although Carrie was sure she saw the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Nicholas and I," Aidan continued, checking the ammunition in his rifle. "We're supply runners back in Alexandria. Glenn's our newbie."

Carrie forced herself to keep a straight face, and it was all she could do not to burst out laughing at the strained, but polite look on Glenn's face. Apparently he and Aidan weren't exactly on the same page, a vibe that presented itself again and again the last few days.

"Lets, err," she began, trying to limit the opportunity for Glenn to retort. "We should go now…the others are ready."

Letting Aidan lead the way, Carrie and Glenn shared an exasperated smile, both of them suspecting what Aidan was trying to do. He wasn't exactly being subtle in his attempts to assert himself over the others, no doubt laying the groundwork to try and flirt with Carrie. Content to just ignore him for now, Carrie willingly followed he and Glenn into the BigSpot, passing by Rick who as usual scrutinised the groups in order to give his approval.

Moving on total silence, the three groups spread out down one side of the store and began doing a very thorough sweep, passing through the fallen shelves in order to fully ensure it was clear of danger. Though they appeared to have drawn out all the Walkers, they each knew the dangers of those that didn't immediately respond to auditory stimuli, those Walkers affectionately known as Lurkers. Holding her flashlight in one hand and her machete in the other, Carrie followed Aidan and Glenn through the large store, various debris scattered across the floor. It was eerie and uncomfortable in the store, their shoes crunching on the various goods they couldn't avoid. Visibility was patchy at beast, every dark corner hiding a corpse or spatter of blood, revealed only when their flashlights passed over it. Only a minute inside, and her group began to pass by the helicopter that had fallen through the roof, the sunlight streaming down on it like a spotlight.

It was an imposing sight, the helicopter sitting high in the air as though on a pedestal. The tail of it was still above the roofline, while the cabin was resting on an enormous pile of rubble. It was disturbing to see, and Carrie couldn't help but feel a flicker of fear. Even with their noisy footsteps, it felt so quiet in the store…so still. All around were random holes in the ceiling, the light streaming down on a grisly sight, one illuminating a Walker that was strung up by cables. Hanging from one of the holes in the ceiling, it was the only thing moving, the only thing making noise.

In a split second that scared her more than she would admit, Carrie's foot slipped on something, making her heart skip a beat as she landed heavily on her knee. There was a panicked moment as Glenn and Aidan looked her over, calming themselves as they ascertained it was not a Walker that caused her to fall. Wincing, she gratefully accepted Aidan's hand and let him help her up, her knee stinging painfully.

"You alright?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Giving her knee a quick rub, Carrie nodded gratefully. Seeing Glenn waiting for them, they quickly returned their attention to what they were meant to be doing. They were passing through one of the few aisles whose shelves and contents were still in tact, and she kept her flashlight shone low in case something reached out from underneath. As they progressed they kept track of what was on the shelves, taking note of what they should take and what they should leave. A few minutes passed uneventfully, Aidan taking out two Walkers they found pinned beneath some fallen shelves.

Increasingly confident and at ease with her surroundings, Carrie even started to enjoy the work they were doing, remembering some of the good times she had during supply runs…at least those that went well, anyway. Reaching the back of the store, Glenn paused by what looked like a mountain of rubble, but on closer inspection proved to be another mountain of shelves that had fallen upon one another. Crouching down he shone his flashlight underneath the debris, a smile crossing his face.

"A handbag," he stated, satisfied with his find.

"So?" Aidan frowned.

"Could have prescription meds," Glenn suggested, standing upright. He direct his flashlight over the surrounding shelves and items, assessing what they were up against. "People took their essentials when they evacuated."

"Do you think we'll be able to reach it?" Carrie asked, peering through the rubble and seeing the red leather Glenn had noticed. There wasn't much space, but she might be able to reach it if the shelves were steady enough. "Or do we need to move the shelves anyway?"

Glenn paused, considering this as he glanced up at the signs above. "It's the homewares section, it's probably not worth moving the shelves."

Deciding to move on for now, they continued through the store, their radio earpieces allowing them to discreetly check in with the others. Getting closer to the back of the store, there was the growing sense of relief that they were almost done, that they could feel safe and then start clearing out whatever contents they could find. Looking forward to seeing the fruits of their labour, Carrie kept her eyes peeled for Lurkers.

"Beer and wine," Aidan delighted, his mouth curling into a smile as he shone his flashlight on the overhead sign. "That's more like it…"

"Don't worry about looking there," Glenn muttered, his interest focused on the adjacent Health and Beauty aisle. "It's not-"

"Can't handle a repeat of the other night?" Aidan teased softly, heading in that direction anyway. "Come on, Carrie. We can handle our drink."

Carrie was just about to make her protest clear when she saw Aidan's silhouette suddenly disappear, a heavy thud and pained gasp making her worry. She and Glenn rushed over, but getting there first Glenn slowed to a stop and growled impatiently. Aidan had slipped over in a puddle of something, the area littered with broken bottles and corpses in varying states of decay.

"I told you not to come over here," Glenn hissed angrily, shining his flashlight up and down him. "Have you cut yourself?"

"Yeah, just my hand," Aidan sighed, picking himself up off the floor, dripping with whatever it was he fell into. He looked as though he was just going to shrug it off, to give his usual charming grin and make a smooth recovery. Carrie and Glenn on the other hand, immediately foresaw the potential consequences.

Swearing to himself, Glenn took off his backpack and dropped it to the ground, hurriedly looking for something. Pulling out a bottle of water, he opened the lid and rushed to pour it over the cut on Aidan's palm. "Hold the flashlight," he instructed, ignoring Aidan's gasp of pain. "Jesus, Aidan…what if you can get infected through an open wound? I told you not to come over here!"

"R-really?" His demeanour changed, his body tensing in fear. "But this blood is old, it doesn't count, right?"

"We don't know. Just let me wash the cut, I think we have disinfectant too…Carrie, can you radio the others?"

"Sure," she nodded, although she had seen something else she needed to take care of first. "Just a sec."

She heard the Walker before she saw it, but she didn't feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, indicating that it wasn't an immediate threat. Turning back the way she had come, she shone her flashlight low on the ground and then laid eyes on it. Her instincts had been right…it's legs maimed, the Walker was really more of a Crawler, and it slowly dragged itself along the floor, just emerging into the aisle where Aidan had fallen. Sizing it up and checking out the surrounding area, Carrie flexed her grip on her machete and marched off towards it, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction that it was finally her turn to take one out inside the store.

"Carrie, leave it," Glenn said, his impatience tinged with worry.

"I got it," she assured him, needing to make sure he was covered while he looked after Aidan.

The Walker reached up for her, but she stomped her foot down on one of it's arms, dodging the other as she drove her machete down into the skull, killing it. Satisfied, she wrenched the machete from the skull and wiped it clean on the back of the Walker's shirt. Annoyed by the way she couldn't get it quite clean enough for her liking, she didn't immediately notice the second Walker that loomed up behind her, the darkness disguising any shadows that might have alerted her.

The sudden stench is what alerted her, and she looked over her shoulder just in time to see it lunging for her. One of the first things she had learnt after the outbreak was to create space between herself and her attacker, to give herself room to move and plan her attack, and so she rarely panicked, even when taken by surprise. Keeping her profile low, she twisted around and gave it a hard shove. As the Walker stumbled backwards and Glenn shouted something inaudible, Carrie leapt up and drove her machete up and under the jaw, just as she saw a flash of something to her right. There was another Walker to her right now, but as blood and gore poured over her hand holding the machete in the Walkers head, she didn't quite have an immediate defence. Nevertheless she didn't panic. Planting her left foot, she kicked out with her right, once again putting space between them.

"Carrie, use your gun!" Glenn shouted angrily, abandoning Aidan and racing towards her.

With her machete stuck, Carrie drew her hunting knife instead and confidently headed for the third Walker, ignoring Glenn's instructions to shoot it. But before she could do anything else the third Walker suddenly sank to it's knees, swaying for a moment before it slumped sideways. Behind it was Daryl, reloading his crossbow and checking out the surrounding aisles. Thanking him, Carrie too looked around and made sure they were clear, feeling the satisfaction that came from taking down the unexpected arrivals. Watching as Daryl bent down and retrieved his bolt from the Walkers skull, she wondered if he was the type to share a high five after a successful take down. Judging by the dark look on his face when he stood up, Carrie figured he wasn't.

"What the hell was that?" Glenn shouted angrily, his expression furious.

Carrie spun around in confusion, surprised by the outburst. "What was what?" she said in bewilderment, her heart really beginning to pound now. Glenn was angry at her?

"I tell you to leave it, so you just ignore me? Is that how we work?"

Her mouth gaping, Carrie looked at him in shock, and it took a moment for her mouth to catch up with her brain. "Am I not allowed to take down Walkers?"

"You left us exposed!"

"I didn't, I was-"

"You left us exposed," he said again, raising his flashlight and pointing it down the aisle past Aidan. Only a yard behind him lay a fourth Walker, one that Glenn had taken down. "When you break rank, you leave us exposed!"

Carrie floundered a little, trying to explain everything at once, and she looked at Daryl for support, for surely it would come. But his face was impassive, as were the faces of everyone else who had followed him over towards the commotion. Turning back to Glenn, Carrie took a breath and began defending herself.

"So I just, what? Let them surround us, so long as we stay in our group? How does that help?"

"It's dangerous in here, Carrie!" Glenn yelled at her, gesturing to the helicopter and fallen ceiling. "You can't just run off from us and take down every Walker you see."

"I know that, I wasn't-"

"You have to stay with us, you have to do your part to protect us, like we do for you."

"I am doing my part!" she argued furiously, her voice escalating too. "I just took down-"

"Use your gun!" he shouted again. "That way you don't leave us exposed to take them on hand to hand. Get it?"

Though there were plenty of things she wanted to say in response, Carrie held her tongue, knowing he was right. Her hands shaking with adrenaline, she took another deep breath to calm herself before slowly nodding. Needing to smooth this incident over, she began to apologise through her gritted teeth, but stopped when she saw Rick. He stood with the others, one hand resting on his hip as he looked between the two group members, assessing the dynamic and catching up on the argument. She recognised his stance, knowing that he was pissed off at something…and today it was her. His stance commanded attention, everyone silent and waiting for his instructions.

"Are we clear in here?"

"We're clear," Abraham confirmed. He and Tobin appeared at the mouth of another aisle, having finished checking the rest of the store. "Took down two more Lurkers in the back."

Rick nodded, the group relaxing a little. "Glenn, you and Aidan get that wound cleaned and bandaged straight away. The rest of you, split into pairs," he instructed, his voice low and tight. Although he spoke to the others, he never took his gaze of Carrie. "Do not go off on your own, and don't open interior doors until you have back up."

There was a flurry of activity now, everyone getting to work. Rick gave Glenn a short nod, no doubt indicating that he would take care of the problem that had arisen. Carrie felt apprehension rising in her throat. Rick was pissed off, that much was clear, as this was the second occasion she had broken rank to take on Walkers without her gun. She wondered what he was going to do, if he was going to yell at her like a child who had been caught stealing a cookie.

"Let's go outside," he said sharply, his features softening a moment later. "Please," he added.

He turned and walked away, his boots thudding on the ground as he said something to Michonne and Daryl. Steeling herself for an argument, Carrie followed him reluctantly, receiving a short nod of support from Daryl as she passed him by. Emerging back into the bright sunlight, Carrie followed Rick to where he waited by one of the tents. His hands were on his hips now, his boot pawing at the ground as he waited for her.

* * *

Carrie followed him out, clearly dreading the conversation they were about to have. Reigning in his temper, Rick took a deep breath and reminded himself to be patient. He didn't know Carrie well enough to pull her into line by yelling. With others, there was the understanding that words exchanged in the heat of the moment were to be forgotten, but not with Carrie. Though she seemed to have settled in quite well with the group, his approach with her needed to be different, especially after what had happened with the two of them the other night. He needed to understand what was going on, not berate her.

He had caught enough of Glenn's yelling to ascertain what had happened, that Carrie had broken rank to take on Walkers hand to hand. She had done the same thing when clearing out the courtyard at the prison, and though he had anticipated a certain level of difficulty in training her in their methods, he thought the one occasion had been enough. But she wasn't unintelligent…she had survived the outbreak thus far, she had been with other groups before his. She knew how to work in a team, she knew how to change and adapt to new people and new styles. He sensed there was something more at play here, and so when he saw the dread on her face as she left the store, he readjusted his body language.

Standing a little more casually, he scrutinised her as she approached. Though dreading this conversation, she stood tall with her shoulder's square, no doubt ready for an argument. He wouldn't let that happen though. Opening the bottle of water he had brought with them, he indicated to her hands and lower arms that were covered in blood, asking her to put them out. She shrugged off her jacket, which would now need to be washed before they departed, and then let him pour the water over her hands. She cleaned them as best she could, washing it all away.

"Give me your gun," he requested when they were done, holding his hand out. He watched as she fumbled with the clasp on her holster, the muzzle catching a little as she drew.

Taking it from her, he cautiously felt the muzzle with the back of his hand, determining that it was cold. Checking the chamber, he saw that she didn't even have a round ready to fire. He bit the inside of his lip, glancing at her.

"Is there something wrong with this gun?"

"No," she answered, taking it back and returning it to the holster.

There was a long pause, Rick looking at her intensely. "I've already given you a hard time for breaking rank when we cleared the prison," he began, his voice gentle but firm.

"Yes."

"You must have had some reason for breaking rank again. If there's nothing wrong with your gun, then why aren't you using it?"

She looked away from him, her jaw clenching. Finally she answered him. "I don't like it."

He highly doubted the truthfulness of this statement. Back at the prison, he had used a similar model to teach the Woodbury children how to shoot. Even seven year old Molly, whose long brown hair reminded him so much of Lori's, had handled the weapon well. As he suspected, there was something more at play here.

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

He pressed at her. "What if I give you a different gun?"

Carrie was clearly frustrated. Her boot nervously kicking at the ground, she ran her hand through her long blonde hair, brushing it off her face. "I just prefer a knife, that's all."

"Why?"

"I just do!" she snapped at him.

He didn't let her outburst bother him, especially when he saw the flash of embarrassment in her eyes. Folding his arms across her chest, Rick cast his mind back to the day he had first met her, remembering something she had told him. When he had asked her why she had killed the four people she had, she told him one of them had been an accident. Sighing, he began to connect the dots, coming to a conclusion he needed her to confirm.

"Is that because of the person you accidentally shot?"

"No," she replied, her hasty answer telling Rick all he needed to know. This was definitely about the person she had shot.

Rubbing his forehead, Rick took a deep breath to summon all of his patience, knowing this must be an awful subject for her. Accidentally shooting one of your own group is not something that would be forgotten…that person's death would be a weight on Carrie's shoulders every day. Thinking of Shane, how the weight of his death burdened Rick, he began to understand.

"Carrie…I get it. I understand," he began gently.

She swore under her breath and looked away, folding her arms defensively.

"We all make mistakes…I've made mistakes that got other people killed, my wife included," he added, feeling the need to share something with her if he wanted that in return. "But we've got to get over it."

"Get over it?" she questioned in disbelief.

"Yes. You've got to get over it. It was a mistake, an accident."

She looked at him incredulously. "How the _fuck_ do you know?" she asked furiously, anger seething. "Huh, Rick? How do you know what mistakes I've made, or what I've done?"

"Do you want to be a part of this group?" he asked, unconcerned by her anger. "Tell me yes, or no, right now. Do you want to be a part of this group?"

With great restraint, Carrie took a slow breath to calm herself down. "Yes," she said tensely.

"Good. I want that too. But you've got to do your part in protecting us."

"I am," she insisted. "I'm trying."

"I know you are. But Carrie," he said lowly, leaning in closer. "If you're part of this group, I need to trust that you'll protect them if the time comes."

"I know how to pro-"

"I need to trust that you'll use your gun," he continued, driving his point across. "You can't protect this group if you-"

"I know how to protect my group!" she shouted. She shoved him hard, shocking him as he stumbled a little. His lips parting in surprise, Rick looked at her critically, taking note of her expression. In the week he had known her she had never displayed aggression like this, and so he took a step back to give her some personal space.

"Carrie," he began slowly, raising a hand to calm her down.

"I can protect my group!" she shouted at him, her anger escalating. "Don't you ever tell me I can't!"

A little surprised by her outburst, he was nevertheless pleased by her passionate declaration. Unsure of what to say, he just stared at her, trying to see if there was malice or genuine aggression behind her passion. In that moment he saw himself reflected in her, her passionate declaration reminding him of himself. He didn't quite understand what was going on, what had made her so angry, but he backed down, knowing when to pick his battles.

"Who trained you to use a gun?"

The sudden change of pace took her by surprise. Relaxing just a fraction, Carrie answered. "No one," she said with pride. "I taught myself."

Rick knew better than to take her pride in self-training as a good thing. Someone who had self taught themselves how to use a firearm should not be admired, especially someone who showed a distinct aversion to said firearm. Despite this, another piece of the puzzle was falling into place. Half of a person's competency in shooting came from confidence, from their own belief that they could shoot with skill and safety. Accidentally killing someone in her group would have shattered Carrie's confidence in her abilities. Thinking about the only time he had actually seen her use her gun, Rick knew he should have foreseen this. When they were clearing the prison, her shots had been poor, and she had dropped her magazine when trying to reload it. At the time he had put this down to panic, not inexperience.

"Give it to me," he requested, gesturing to the gun on her leg.

"Why?"

"Just give it to me," he repeated with a sigh. He suddenly felt as old and weary as he had that morning, and he longed for nothing more than to crawl into bed and go back to sleep.

Removing it from her holster for a second time, Carrie passed it over. Taking it, Rick glanced at her before unscrewing the silencer and tucking it into his pocket. Checking the safety, he tucked it into the back of his waistband and made sure it was secure. Looking back at her, he was unsurprised to see that she was relieved, thinking he had relieved her of the weapon permanently.

"Thank you," she said.

"Don't thank me yet," he said in warning, thinking of what needed to happen next. "This conversation is not over."

Pursing her lips, Carrie nodded. There was an awkward silence, Carrie's outburst at him lingering in the air. More curious than affronted by it, Rick continued scrutinising her, reading her every expression. Her face displayed regret and relief, a strange combination. Sympathetic, he gestured back to the store and relieved her of his company.

"Go," he said shortly. "There's looting to do."

* * *

A/N Thank you to my reviewers, and as always, more would be a welcome treat. Hope you are all enjoying the slow burn.

I'm currently writing the penultimate chapter to this story, and although there is still a lot of work to go before all chapters can be posted, it's looking like it will be a 40 chapter story, with sequel to come (depending how much time I have during the next semester of uni).


	17. Chapter 17

A/N This chapter had to be rewritten after an incident with my usb, one which involved significant screaming and swearing. I'm so glad it's re-written and posted, so please enjoy.

* * *

The BigSpot had been more profitable than any of them anticipated, although expectations had been low to begin with. Despite the damage from Walkers, the fallen helicopter and two months of rainfall through the open roof, a great majority of supplies and food had survived. Working methodically, the group cleared out the supplies that were in easy reach, taking them outside to be packed before doubling back to try again. They moved shelves with caution, knowing that shifting the rubble and debris could inevitably set free any Walkers that were trapped underneath and out of sight.

With his rifle at the ready Rick kept watch of their surroundings, having taken out a few Walkers in the last few hours. They were almost finished up by now, and were more than ready to haul ass back to the prison and call it a day. Searching the group, he let his eyes fall on Carrie, who was standing in the shade cast by a robust tree. She and Aaron were talking quietly, sipping at their water as they tried to find relief from the hot sun. Rick had been keeping an eye on her that afternoon, wary of her reaction to their earlier problems. When he had taken her aside to talk to her she had displayed a sudden and passionate burst of anger…hell, she had shoved him. It had been a long time since someone had shoved him in the heat of an argument…hell, he didn't recall Lori ever shoving him, though he was sure the thought had crossed her mind.

"Are those really a priority?" Daryl asked dryly, the question breaking Rick from his thoughts. Following Daryl's gaze, he found Aidan approaching the back of the minivan with a shopping cart full of supplies. Situated on top were about forty boxes of condoms.

The injury to his hand and potential infection hadn't slow Aidan down at all. "Can't stop love," he said loudly, casting Carrie a more than friendly smile.

Rick narrowed his eyes at this, feeling a pang of jealousy he quickly tried to squash down. He was being inappropriate…he had no claim over Carrie, and therefore no grounds on which to be jealous of Aidan. On the other hand, he could be pleased to see Carrie pointedly ignoring his smile, subtly trying to avoid his affections.

"Actually, they're on the list of priorities," Rick muttered to Daryl, secretly approving of the contraceptives that had been found. He couldn't exactly tell Aidan not to bother with contraception, not when the back of his car was stocked with diapers and teething rings.

They departed not long after that, the group breathing a sigh of relief when they found refuge in the air-conditioned cars. With Abraham and Tobin riding in the military truck they had tuned up and gassed, they made their departure from the BigSpot. Little to his surprise, Carrie rode in one of the other cars once again, no doubt avoiding him just as much as she was avoiding Aidan. At least she and Glenn appeared to have patched things up, an apology made and an understanding reached.

When they reached the prison, Rick got out and took care of the gates, knowing the padlocks could be tricky sometimes. Letting the cars pass through, he locked the gates and then walked up to the top courtyard, unsurprised to see Carl waiting for them, worriedly taking count of each person who stepped out of a vehicle. Rick watched from a distance as Carl hobbled around on his crutches, looking concerned until he finally laid eyes on him coming up from the lower field.

"How did you go?" Carl asked when Rick reached the courtyard.

"Just fine," he assured him. Seeing Carl's hopeful expression, he knew he was waiting to see if Rick had brought him something. Opening the glove compartment of the Hyundai, he tossed Carl a packet of skittles he had kept out for him.

"Thanks," he grinned, holding his crutches with his elbows as he tore open the packet. "Want some?"

Taking a handful, Rick observed the rest of the group, pleased to see they were taking pause for something to eat and drink. Though there was still a lot to do before their early morning departure tomorrow, taking time to rest and eat properly would help them keep going hard. Taking note of everything that needed to be done, Rick saw Carl start to peer inside the minivan where Aidan had packed the condoms and a few other necessities. Wanting to avoid the inevitable questions, for now anyway, Rick distracted him. "Here, I need you to build these for me."

"What is it?" he asked in interest, always pleased to have something to do for the group.

Retrieving two large boxes from the back of the military truck, Rick showed Carl the picture of the portable greenhouses. "We'll need them for the plants and seedlings, they'll keep them warm. Shouldn't be hard, there're instructions."

Carl just scoffed, wobbling on his crutches. "I don't need instructions."

"Good luck with that," Rick teased, turning serious a moment later. He hesitated before what he said next. "I'm going out again, alright?"

"Why?"

"There's something I need to do," he explained patiently, glancing over at Carrie. "I won't be far."

"Okay," Carl nodded. Though he sounded accepting, Rick recognised the tone as one of disappointment. He used that tone back in the early days of the prison, when Rick still went on supply runs. Conscious of this, Rick brushed his hand over Carl's shoulder, telling him to get a start on the greenhouse after he ate.

While he didn't want to ruin another person's good mood, Rick knew that there was something that needed to be done. He had been thinking about this ever since they had left the BigSpot, mulling over everything that could go wrong if he went ahead with his idea. Catching Carrie's eye, Rick gestured for her to come away from the group. She looked apprehensive as she followed him over towards the basketball hoop, perhaps wondering if they were going to argue about something again.

"What is it?" she asked, sounding worried.

Steeling himself, Rick paused before answering. "Carrie, you and I need to…" he began, trailing off as he noticed her bare shoulders. He felt his eyes trailing across them, taking in her collarbones and then… "Guns," he said abruptly, cutting off his train of thought.

"Guns?" she questioned.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. I'm going to teach you how to shoot properly."

Just as he expected it to, Carrie's face fell at this, furthering his belief that she didn't like guns. "You afraid I'm going to hurt someone?"

"A little," he admitted, resting one hand on his duty belt. "I need to trust that you can protect the group."

"I can protect my group," she said solidly, echoing the passionate declaration she had made a few hours ago.

"I believe you," he continued. "But the thing is, this isn't your group. You're a part of this group…but it's mine."

It looked like she was going to argue this, but to her credit, Carrie just clenched her jaw and looked down at the ground. The toe of her boot was pointed, absentmindedly rubbing the concrete. There was a long pause in which he waited for her to say something, wondering if she had more arguments to make.

"This isn't an offer," Rick finally said, relieved that the conversation was concluding. "We're leaving in half an hour."

Leaving it at that, Rick walked away and left her standing there. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at her, disheartened by the reluctance that showed through her body language. Turning on her heel, Carrie stiffly headed into the cell block, raising her hands and pulling her hair into a pony tail. Wishing he knew exactly what she was thinking, he quickly brought a few of the others up to speed on where they were going, asking Michonne to keep an eye on Carl like she always did. He set about unloading the contents of the Hyundai, leaving them in the courtyard for the others to sort through and organise. Not stopping to eat with the others, he topped up the gas and then found his old Sheriff's bag, packing it with a variety of ammunition and firearms. He made sure the gun he had taken off Carrie was still in the back of his waistband, knowing that it was a good fit for her. Nevertheless, he'd try her with a few others, wondering if perhaps the problem really was that she just didn't like the gun she had been given.

Filling his pockets with some of his own .357 rounds, he made sure his speed loaders were full, just in case something went to shit while they were out there. He tossed a few other things inside and then zipped up the bag. Slinging a rifle over his shoulder, he headed outside and then packed some food, water and a medical kit, taking all the essentials they needed when separating from the rest of the group.

"Hey, Rick," Aidan called out to him, finding him as he crossed the courtyard.

"What is it?" he asked in concern, his eyes scanning the area and checking on his people. They were still relaxing for a little while, Daryl preparing to go on one last hunt.

"I want to call in that favour you owe me."

"What do you need?"

"I hear you and Carrie are going shooting," Aidan said, catching up to him.

Rick slowed to a stop, a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "That's right."

"Can I go?" he asked, giving Rick a hopeful smile.

Looking at him in concern, Rick got a bad feeling about this. "It's not recreational. I'm teaching her."

"I can teach," Aidan continued, darting in front of him as Rick tried to head to the car. "I've taught before…I've taught women too."

"Saying you've taught women is not a qualification," Rick replied tersely, this comment getting up his nose. He stopped in his tracks again, staring Aidan down.

"Come on Rick," Aidan pleaded, his expression hopeful. "I'll be honest…this would mean a lot to me."

"How so?"

"Well, you've seen Carrie, right? She's gorgeous. Have you taken a look at her…you know, and her…Come on, help me out here."

"She needs to learn, not to be hit on," he replied in annoyance, feeling the need to shield her from Aidan's affections. "I'm sorry, the answer is no."

Hoping to leave it at that, Rick stepped around Aidan and continued on to the cars. But he didn't get more than a few steps before Aidan was following him again, still talking.

"Rick," he said urgently. "I'm not stepping in on you, am I? You and Carrie?"

"What?" he exclaimed in alarm, stopping in his tracks.

"I know I'm a douche, but if I'm stepping in on you, just say so…I'll back off.

"No," he denied automatically. "There's…you're not…"

"Then what's the problem? Come on, Rick. You do owe me."

Rick glared at the tank ahead of him, wondering what the hell to do. He sure as shit didn't want Aidan teaching Carrie. Not just because he doubted his abilities, but hell…he just didn't want Aidan teaching her, not when he was so obviously trying to win her affections. But that there was the problem…if Rick refused him without proper reason, it would only serve to make Aidan think that he had indeed stepped in on Rick and Carrie. Knowing Aidan, there would be talk…and Carl would hear.

"Fine," he said between his clenched jaws. "But you are to teach her, not hit on her. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely," Aidan beamed, looking as though he was trying not to punch the air. "Not a problem. I'll be subtle."

"No, don't hit on her at all."

"I won't, cross my heart."

Increasingly annoyed, Rick tried not to scowl. "If I don't think you're doing it properly, I'm taking over. Got it?"

Aidan's face fell at this remark, his happiness coming down a notch or two. "You're…you're coming with us?"

"Of course I am."

"You don't trust me to behave myself?" he said playfully, trying to recover any faith.

"Not one bit."

Trying not to look too furious with the circumstances, Rick stalked off and tossed the bag of guns into the back seat of the Hyundai, heading back only to grab a quick bite to eat. Right on time, he saw Carrie emerge from the cell block and head towards where Rick was waiting, giving a polite smile when Aidan caught up to her and gave her the good news of his company. Still feeling the inappropriate jealousy, Rick watched her polite expression, wondering if she would give away what she really thought.

Finishing up the meagre meal of two minute noodles, he managed to catch Carrie's eye, hoping to see an indication of what she was thinking. But unlike before when she openly showed her distaste for their activity, she now seemed politely interested, and apparently wasn't at all put out that Aidan was joining them. But a few minutes later when he and Carrie found themselves alone in the car, waiting just outside the prison gates as Aidan locked them up behind them, Rick could sense her reluctance. There was a long and awkward pause before Carrie finally spoke.

"I thought you were teaching me," she quietly commented.

"Yeah…so did I," he said lowly, part of him glad she wasn't pleased by Aidan's company. "Sorry."

Checking on Aidan in the rear vision mirror, Rick took a deep breath. The awkward silences between he and Carrie seemed to come and go all the time, always taking him by surprise. Strumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Rick thought back to their conversation outside the BigSpot, knowing he had a lot of work to do before Carrie regained her confidence with a firearm.

"The person you shot by accident," he asked, not just to make conversation. "Who were they?"

He heard Carrie's breath pause, her hands clenching into a fist before she forced them to relax. "His name was Wade," she answered softly. "He's the guy who found me hiding in the dumpster…in Atlanta."

"Did he die quickly?"

"No," she shook her head, looking out the window at a Walker emerging from the woods. She took a deep breath now, steeling herself. "You trying to give me inspiration? A reason to learn properly?"

Mimicking her, he shook his head and looked out the driver's side window. "Just nosy. You'll probably find I'm not very inspiring."

"Nosy…uninspiring, and more self-depreciating than you deserve."

He looked around at her now, surprised by this comment. "That a compliment?"

"Yeah. You gonna struggle to take it?"

"I'll have to learn if you stick around."

Aidan returned to the car barely a moment later, hindering Carrie's opportunity to reply to this remark. Rick let his gaze linger on her for a moment, wishing to God that she hadn't requested he make the first move. He wanted to, his desire for her increasing with alarming urgency, he just didn't quite know how to go about it. Not wasting anymore time, they set off for one of the fields they knew to be open and secure, the place where they had taken the Woodbury survivors for gun training.

* * *

Seated on the top of the Hyundai, Rick kept careful watch on their surroundings, his rifle resting across his lap as he scanned the open field and woods. The heat showed no sign of subsiding, and though it was uncomfortable, he hoped it stuck around for a few days at least. With a long drive back to Alexandria coming up, the last thing they needed was rain, and a sudden heatwave in Georgia often precipitated one hell of a storm. Trying to occupy his thoughts, Rick let himself dwell on the worries he had for their departure tomorrow morning, preferring to worry about that than to worry about Aidan teaching Carrie.

Christ…If he kept looking over at them, he was going to give himself an ulcer.

Though Aidan himself was a competent and skilled gunman, his teaching left a lot to be desired. Then again, in his defence it wasn't every day he taught someone he was so obviously attracted to. To his credit, he was trying very hard to be subtle about what he was looking for, but it was coming at the expense of Carrie's lesson. Distracted by other things, Aidan had wasted twenty minutes of their limited time determining Carrie's dominant eye, demonstrating the Weaver and Isosceles stance and setting up some cans to shoot. But despite appearing to be so thorough, Aidan was neglecting the most important lesson that should have established the entire lesson.

Basic gun safety.

Certain that he was going to have a stomach ulcer by the day's end, Rick wondered if Aidan knew he hadn't properly cleared the Glock they were using. Though Rick was meant to be on watch, he had hardly taken his eyes off Aidan ever since he had loaded a magazine and then removed it, making sure Carrie knew how that worked. During that process, Aidan had pulled back the slide, his hands acting habitually without thinking about it. Although there was no magazine in the gun right now, there still might be a round in the chamber…the gun could still be loaded. Rick hadn't noticed him clearing the chamber. All he had to do was push back the slide and check it, and yet he hadn't.

"Let's see you shoot this thing," Aidan smiled, handing the gun to Carrie.

"Alright," she nodded, getting her grip. Watching from the corner of his eye, Rick grit his teeth, seeing that she wasn't holding it properly. Come on, Aidan…show her how.

"Whoops," Aidan laughed, pulling the magazine out of his pocket. "Better load it first."

As Aidan took the gun from Carrie to reload it, he negligently passed it in front of her leg, the motion making Rick flinch. Hell, he still hadn't realised there was a round in the chamber. Having seen enough, Rick got down from the top of the car and walked over to them.

"Aidan. I'll take it from here," he said nonchalantly. Though he didn't particularly like Aidan, he didn't want to openly embarrass him too much…not really, anyway.

Faltering a little, Aidan looked at him in surprise, disappointment crossing his face. There was an awkward moment in which the two men looked at each other, Rick patiently waiting for Aidan to stand down, to accept that his time was up. But as he knew he would, Aidan recovered smoothly and accepted Rick's request.

"Alright," he shrugged casually, taking the rifle from Rick. "I'll take watch."

"Thanks," Rick nodded, acting as though Aidan was doing him a favour. As Aidan climbed up onto the Hyundai, Rick turned his attention to Carrie and requested the gun back. Holding it safely, he was glad to see a small smile on her face, showing her relief that he and Aidan had swapped. Briefly sharing her smile, he looked down at the Glock and wondered where best to start, knowing he needed to figure out what she did and did not know.

"Let's start with gun safety." Ejecting the magazine, he gave her a reassuring nod and passed the gun back to her. Holding out his hand, he showed her the magazine. "There's no magazine in that gun. Right?"

"Right."

"Would you point it at me?"

"No," she answered with certainty.

"Why not?"

"Because…you don't a gun at anything you're not willing to kill."

He nodded, approving of her answer. "If you point a gun at someone, you have to mean it…you have to be prepared to accept the responsibility of what might happen to them."

"Yes."

"Pointing a gun at someone is a big deal…take Glenn for example. I trust him implicitly, but if he pointed a gun at me, I'd be afraid."

"I understand," she stated seriously.

"Good," he nodded. "Second rule of gun safety, is to keep your finger off the trigger until the very last moment. If you've got your finger on the trigger when you're not ready to fire, you're risking a negligent discharge."

"Got it."

"The most important rule, is that a gun is always loaded. That is a mindset you need to always have. If someone gives you a gun and tells you it's clear, check it yourself. Even if you and I both determine that it's unloaded, you still can't violate the other safety rules. You can't point it at me, and you can't have your finger on the trigger."

She nodded, looking up at him. "I understand," she said, her free hand pushing her loose hair behind her ear.

Realising he was looking at her a little longer than necessary, Rick quickly averted his eyes back down to the gun in her hand. "This gun here…is it loaded?"

"I don't know," she said softly, sounding uncertain.

"What makes you unsure?"

She hesitated, looking down at the gun and then at the magazine. "There could be a round in the chamber."

"Do you know how to check it?" he asked, prompting her to do so when she nodded.

Pointing the gun away from them both, she deftly pushed back the slide, and a round popped out of the ejection port. Catching it, Rick held it in his fingers and glanced up at Aidan, silently communicating this was the reason he had taken over. As Aidan winced apologetically, Rick returned the round to the top of the magazine.

"It's empty now. Would you point it at me?"

"No."

"Good," he praised. "Have you ever used a Glock before?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I didn't like it though."

"Why not?"

"There's no safety switch."

"Is that the only reason?" he asked, starting to frown. He was surprised when she nodded. "Normally people complain that they're plastic, not that there's no safety mechanism."

Carrie just shrugged at this. Although there was a safety mechanism built into the trigger, he knew what she was getting at with her complaint. Police issue Glocks like this one had no describable safety switch, at least not like the ones she would have seen in the movies and on television. Taking into consideration some of the other things he had learnt about her history with guns, and the way she showed an overall aversion to them, he deduced that what she lacked wasn't just confidence, but trust.

"Let's try something different," he suggested, taking the Glock back. Returning the magazine and the gun back into the bag, he instead pulled out the gun in the back of his waistband, the one he had taken from her that day. Glenn had originally given it to her, and his choice had been suitable.

"I know you said you don't like this gun…but you will," he told her. "It's a Ruger SR9. The magazine is double stacked, and it holds seventeen rounds. You'll like it because it's got great safety features, so it's good for someone like you who's lacking confidence."

Though she was still reluctant to engage with what he was trying to teach her, Carrie paid attention, watching as he showed her that the chamber was clear before demonstrating the safety features.

"This here, that's the loaded chamber indicator. When it's up and red, it means there's a round ready to fire. I don't want you to depend on that indicator as a reassurance that it's safe, especially as you'll eventually be handling many different guns, but it does serve as a warning for you. The safety switch is here, and it's pretty basic."

"Red is dead."

He nodded in approval. "You see this funny bit on the trigger, the bit poking out? That's another safety mechanism. If you try to pull the trigger without fully depressing this little blade, it won't fire. The safety action trigger means that it will only fire, when you intend to fire. Also, you can't fire it without a magazine, which helps protect you from negligent discharge after not unloading it properly."

"Alright."

"You followed all that?"

"Yeah, I did."

Although he still detected her reservations, he carried on. He removed the magazine and then pushed back the slide, making her look and check that it was clear. "Show me your single hand grip."

Letting her take her time, he watched patiently as she gripped the handle and got it comfortable. "How's this?"

"Perfect," he praised. Taking her thumb, he gently pulled it off the grip. "See how you don't need your thumb to hold on to it? That's good. And the web of your hand here, at the back…you see how you have it well below the slide?"

She nodded. "I learnt the hard way to keep my hand clear of that."

"Most of us learn the hard way," he admitted, remembering his own experience. He prompted her to add her left hand now, and immediately recognised the problem he had seen earlier. "You see how you're cupping it from the bottom? Doing that means you have less control…when you get recoil, it's just going to kick up from the palm of your hand. Move it to cover your other fingers…your thumb needs to rest on top of the other."

"Like this?"

Nodding, he gently placed a hand over hers, feeling how tense her fingers were. "Relax your grip a little," he told her softly. "It's not going anywhere."

Carrie laughed a little, but it was a nervous laugh. She was not at all relaxed, no doubt wishing they were back at the prison, that her aversion to guns hadn't caused the problems it had. There was no choice but for her to get used to handling firearms, particularly if she was going to be a part of their group long term, but he wished he knew how to make this easier for her. Learning how to use a gun should be enjoyable, not stressful. Looking at her uncertainly, he tried to help her relax a little.

"When I'm teaching men, I tell them to hold a gun like they would a woman's breast," he said tentatively. "Firm, but gentle."

This elicited a genuine laugh from her now, her eyes lighting up in shocked amusement. She looked at him as though questioning whether he was serious. "So, you're saying I should hold it like…you know…" She smiled at him suggestively, amused when he broke eye contact first.

"Sure, like that," he laughed in embarrassment. Shaking his head to himself, he handed her a magazine and requested that she load it. "Put a round in the chamber, and then raise it to a comfortable height."

"How should I stand?" she asked, wanting to get it right. He saw her eyes dart to the trigger, conscious of the fact that the gun was now loaded.

"However is comfortable for you. Forget Isosceles and Weaver stance. All I want from you today, is to have your arms and legs slightly bent, and for you to learn forward just a fraction."

Doing as instructed, Carrie frowned a little, the wind blowing her loose hair across her face. "This feels kind of stupid," she said self-consciously, leaning forward when he prompted her again.

"Less stupid than falling on your ass."

A smile crossed her face again, and she looked at him from the corner of her eye. "That happen often?"

"Once. To a friend of a friend."

"Sure…a friend," she teased, looking at him properly now.

Under her ever-perceptive gaze, Rick knew his lie had been detected. "I was fourteen, and it was a rifle," he said in his defence. "A big one."

She laughed at him now, her body language telling him how the jokes at his expense had helped her relax a little. "I would have liked to have seen that."

"You done laugin' at me?"

"I don't know…are you done talking?"

"Concentrate," he pretended to scold her, prompting her to raise the gun again. "Come on…when you're ready, take a shot."

"I take it I'm aiming for the cans?"

"No. Just shoot, get the feel of it."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded her head as she raised the gun to a comfortable height. Taking herself through the mental process, she adjusted her grip and then bent her knees. Rick too went through the mental process, and he gently placed his hand between her shoulder blades, prompting her to lean forward a little. Leaving her be now, Rick watched and waited, wondering if she was going to realise what she had forgotten. He saw the very moment that she went to pull the trigger, her features pinching when she found resistance.

"You should start by taking the safety off," he reminded her, trying to keep a straight face.

Carrie swore under her breath, her whole body slumping as she realised what she had forgotten. Enjoying her reaction, Rick laughed at her openly.

"Don't laugh at me," she said, stifling her own. "I have a loaded gun."

"That you do." Reminding her where the safety switch was, he pointed out which thumb she should use to disengage it. "Go on…hurry up and fire this thing."

There was no more preamble from her, no more hesitation. With a long breath, Carrie raised the gun again and got herself comfortable, pausing for only a moment before she fired. The sound of the gunshot was enormous, the crack piercing the silent and peaceful setting of the field. She handled the recoil well, and when he checked he was pleased to see she had removed her finger from the trigger.

"How did that feel?"

"Fine," she answered slowly.

"Keep going," he prompted. "Get the feel of it, get used to it."

She fired six more rounds before the slide locked back. "I thought you said it holds seventeen."

"I didn't fill the magazine," he explained, getting another. "Put the safety on. Load the new magazine, then put a round in the chamber."

He watched her carefully, remembering the way she had fumbled this the other day. When they retook the prison, Carrie had expended her first magazine, poorly at best, and then dropped her new one in her haste to reload. At the time he had put it down to panic, to her gloves that were covered in blood and gore, and he was right. Today she deftly went about his instructions, pausing only to readjust her grip before pushing back the slide.

"Good," he praised, ushering her towards the fences. "We'll aim at the cans now. Just take your time to line up your sights, there's no rush."

"Sights?" she questioned with a frown.

Pausing, he considered her question, wondering what she meant. "Talk me through what you do when you're taking aim."

"This one here," she said, indicating to the front sight atop the muzzle. "Aim with that."

He shook his head, understanding why her shots were so awful. It wasn't just inexperience, it was the pitfalls of being a self taught shooter. Checking the safety was engaged, he took the gun from her and patiently talked her through the front and rear sights, holding it to her eye level and making sure she understood.

"You're dealing with a relationship between two points. Getting your sights perfectly aligned means that the lines here and here…they're in line with the top of the front sight. It doesn't matter if you get your front sight aimed on something. You won't hit it if the top of the front and rear sights are not aligned."

Paying attention, Carrie raised the gun back to eye level and looked down the top of the barrel, titling it this way and that.

"You'll be able to see a very small space on either side of the front sight too. You're looking for equal height, and equal light…remember that, and your sights will be well aligned."

"A few things are beginning to fall into place now," she said, giving a bitter chuckle. "It's a lot to think about in the heat of the moment."

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "Unfortunately, the skill only comes with experience, with practice. As you practice, lining up your sights to get an accurate shot will become natural. You won't even realise you're doing it."

"Do you get every shot every time?"

"No," he said honestly. "Not in the heat of a fight, anyway. Now take aim...you think you're ready to fire?"

"Yes. After I take the safety off," she added.

"Tell me what you're looking at, what you can see."

"The can…my sights are all lined up."

"What are your eyes focused on? The can, or the sights?"

"The can," she said confidently.

He thought as much. "Focus your eyes on your front sight…that's what you need to see clearly. Let the can fade into the background. Be aware of it, be aware that you're aiming for it…but your focus needs to be on the front dot."

"Alright," she said softly.

"Shoot when you're ready." A few moments later she took a shot, and there was a dull thud as the round hit the fence post below the can. "That's good," he assured her.

"I missed it," she said plainly, not believing him.

"So? Try again."

Taking a little more time now, Carrie lined up her sights and tried again. Her next two shots also missed, but her third knocked off the metal can with a loud clang. Smiling at her success, Carrie turned to him to seek his reaction, but he quickly prompted her to keep going. Leading her a few paces to their right, he scrutinised the way she handled the gun and gave his approval. Her finger was off the trigger, and she kept it pointedly safely away from them.

"Keep going," he encouraged, indicating to the next can. "Get your sights lined up, take your-"

She fired before he expected her to, the next can falling off the fence with another loud clang.

"...time," he concluded unnecessarily, looking at her again. She wore a very self-satisfied smile, one that made him want to roll his eyes. "Show off," he muttered, prompting her to move on to the next one.

"Good teacher," she countered, raising her gun and leaning forward as he had taught her. Her next shot missed by a fraction, but the following one was a success. Taking a step back now, he stayed close by as she moved further down the fence, using all of her remaining rounds to take down the remaining cans. When her slide locked back to indicate the magazine was empty.

"Look at how you're standing," he told her.

She looked down at herself, surprise crossing her face. "Weaver stance," she identified, noting the way she stood with one foot back and one arm bent.

"That's right. If you're going to start a fight, this is how you'll stand on instinct. You took the Weaver stance, because you're feeling strong and aggressive."

"Yes," she agreed, confidence in herself growing.

Proud of her, he cautiously placed his hands on her waist. "From this stance, you can turn in any direction very easily," he told her, showing her as he prompted her to swivel away from him. "You're feet are solid like this…nothing is going to knock you over."

"I like it," she acknowledged.

Completely of her own accord, she turned back around to him, his hands still firmly on her hips as they came face to face. Highly aware of just how close they were standing to one another, of her warm breath against his chin, Rick got the overwhelming urge to kiss her, to do what he had been wanting ever since the first one. They looked at each other intently, both of them knowing what he was thinking even before he stepped closer. She lowered the gun and leant back to him, their eyes drifting closed as he went to kiss her.

"Hey Rick," Aidan called out.

His eyes burst open at the sound of Aidan calling for him, Carrie's eyes opening too. They looked at each other with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, frustrated by their interruption. Yet, despite remembering that they definitely were not alone, Rick didn't move back, he didn't take his hands off her.

"What?"

"We got Walkers coming."

Though the news registered, Rick gave it only momentary thought. He considered throwing all caution to the wind, kissing Carrie anyway. To hell with Aidan. To hell with the Walkers. But he resisted, an idea coming to mind.

"Are there any loners?" he asked, taking his hands off Carrie's waist and stepping back. He turned to Aidan, who was scanning the area with his binoculars.

"Yeah…over that way. You want me to leave it for you?"

"Yes. Take out the others." He looked back at Carrie, giving her a supportive smile. "Come on, let's try a real target."

Looking as disappointed as Rick felt, Carrie reluctantly exchanged her empty magazine for a new one, engaging the safety switch as she followed him.

"Just do exactly what you did before," he coached her, seeing the lone Walker. It was short and pudgy, making it's approach even slower than normal. "Get your sights aligned, and then focus on your front sight to take aim."

Carrie just nodded, swallowing heavily as she came to a stop and raised the gun again. Rick stayed close by, coaching her quietly as she flexed her grip and made sure she was standing properly. She was staring the Walker down, and though she was nervous he observed the moment when she did as instructed, focusing her eyes on the front sight with the Walker in the background. She fired at the same time Aidan did, the Walkers head jolting back as it fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

"Look at how you're standing."

Releasing the breath she had held, she glanced down at herself as she began to relax. "Isosceles."

He nodded in agreement. "You're feeling defensive, you're protecting yourself, so you take Isosceles."

As he spoke, they saw the long grass up ahead beginning to rustle, indicating that Carrie's shot hadn't quite been as accurate as they first thought. Nevertheless it was a vast improvement on the person who prior to this didn't even want to carry her gun. Brushing his hair off his face, Rick turned on the spot and checked their surroundings, reassured by the sound of Aidan firing the rifle with confidence.

"Go on, finish it off," he told her nonchalantly, hardly thinking about it. "Get a bit closer this time…try it with one hand."

Carrie's body language changed at this instruction, and while at first he took this for reluctance, a moment later he could tell it was more than that. Her body was tense now, her shoulder's hunched as she gave a short nod. Steeling herself, Carrie held the gun in one hand as she approached the Walker through the long grass, situating herself at a safe distance. Hearing it's growls, Rick took out his Colt and made sure he stayed close, just in case.

Though she had raised the gun, the Walker clearly in her sights, Carrie didn't fire. He waited, feeling a tinge of apprehension as he realised she wasn't just taking her time…she was delaying. Something was wrong…she didn't want to kill it.

"What's wrong?" he asked outright. Her head whirled around to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise as though she had forgotten he was there. "Don't take your eyes off it!"

"Sorry," she said hastily, looking back. Despite the interruption to her thoughts, her body language didn't change.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, concerned.

"Nothing," she denied sharply, her answer coming a little too quickly to be truthful.

Though he worried about her answer, Rick was forced to prioritise the task at hand. "Then finish it."

She fidgeting reluctantly, her free hand tucking her loose hair behind one ear. Still she hesitated, but she finally poised her finger on the trigger and fired. With undoubtable finality, the Walker slumped to the ground in silence.

There was a long pause now, Rick waiting as Carrie very slowly lowered the gun and engaged the safety switch. Despite her denial, he wasn't stupid…something was wrong, potentially something that needed fixing. But as though shaking it all off, Carrie straightened her shoulders and came back to him, her expression one of grim satisfaction for the job she had done. Rick wasn't buying it.

"How was that?"

"That was fine…good technique."

"Weaver stance, right?"

He nodded, agreeing with her. "You okay?" he asked her outright. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong," she shrugged, pretending to look confused.

Suspecting he'd better drop it, he cleared his throat and then gestured to her gun, continuing their lesson. "Do you know how to unload? Not just drop the magazine, I mean properly unload."

"Yes. Remove the magazine, and then clear the chamber."

"Why do you remove the magazine first?"

"If you try to clear the chamber, then remove the magazine, you're just popping out a round and sliding a new one in."

"That's right," he confirmed, prompting her to unload it. Taking it from her, he locked the slide back and then showed her the ejection port. "When the gun is clear, you can look down the ejection port and see daylight. That's the measure of an unloaded gun, not the absence of a magazine."

"Daylight. Got it."

He started to think about calling it a day now, feeling the weariness creep back to his bones. They had such an early start tomorrow, and perhaps Carrie had just had enough…perhaps that was what was wrong.

"Come on," he said, returning to the car. Nodding as Aidan confirmed they were clear of Walkers once again, Rick took the half used magazine back from Carrie, swapping it out for two that were full. Hoping she didn't try to argue, he handed them both to her. "Would you prefer a leg holster, or a belt holster?"

Carrie pursed her lips before answering, realising what he was doing. "Leg."

He handed her the chosen holster, watching as she reluctantly fastened it around her thigh, securing the clips and attaching the top strap to the waistband of her jeans. Without preamble, he handed back the empty gun.

"I want you to carry this at all times. Please," he added. "You can carry it unloaded if you want to. That's up to you."

She nodded, making no outward objections as she slipped it into the holster and secured it there. Watching her expression, Rick wished he could have insight into what she was thinking, wondering what he could learn. But just like before, her expression was one of polite interest, making him question whether or not he had been seeing things before.

"One more lesson?" he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I have a choice?"

He understood her remark, knowing she didn't really. "You'll like this one," he promised her. Taking his Colt out of its holster, he methodically removed the the rounds and slipped them into his pocket. He offered it to her now, amused by her expression.

"Yours?" she said skeptically.

"Yes. I'm as particular about my gun as I am about my cucumbers…but you can try it."

"It's heavy," she commented, feeling the weight of it in her hand as she sized up the grip.

He nodded in agreement. "I know you don't like guns, and I know that's because of what happened with Wade…but there's no bull shit with revolvers. Either it's loaded, or it's not. This is my service weapon from the police force."

She managed a smile at this. "Isn't a revolver a little old fashioned for police work?"

Rick echoed her smile, remembering that Lori had said the same thing when he brought it. "A Colt Python is superior to any police issue Glock, at least in my opinion. It's got better range, and the stopping power is massive."

"Has it ever failed you?" Looking it over, she flexed her hand around the grip, flinching as she accidentally brushed the hammer.

"Never. This gun…some people say it's the Rolls Royce of revolvers. You'll like it."

"That's a big claim," she smiled, looking at him properly. "I used to drive a Rolls."

He laughed shortly, uncertain of whether she was joking or not. Choosing a single .38 round, he showed her how to load it and close the cylinder. "How does it feel in your hand?" he asked, critiquing her hold.

"It feels.…heavy," she said again.

"Heavy is good. It will help with handling the recoil. These are sights, here and here, but don't worry about them yet. Fire it…see how it feels."

"Don't I have to pull this back?" she asked, brushing her thumb over the hammer.

"Most revolvers today are double-action. You can pull the hammer back if you want to, but it's not necessary. The gun will still fire if you haven't pulled back the hammer."

"And what about the safety?" she asked next, frowning as she looked for some kind of labelled switch.

"Revolvers don't have a safety switch." The surprise showed on her face, as did the renewed apprehension. "A modern revolver will only discharge if you pull the trigger…you don't have to worry about dropping it or accidentally dropping the hammer."

"Okay," she said quietly, not appearing reassured even when he demonstrated.

Her reluctance was showing again, simultaneously putting him at unease. He could tell she was unhappy about something, and he wished he could figure it out. In a moment of self doubt he wondered if it was him causing her discomfort, if perhaps she didn't quite feel the same way she had the other night. Was he standing too close to her, invading her personal space?

"Rick, I need to ask you something," she began hesitantly, continuing when he nodded. "Everything you're doing for me…why are you doing it?"

Her question very much took him by surprise, and it's implications made him worry. "Are you worried I'm going to take advantage of you?" he asked very seriously, leaning back just in case he was indeed the problem.

"No, of course not," she shook her head imperatively, grimacing at the difficulty in explaining herself. "Nothing like that, I promise. It's just…you're doing so much for me, taking me back to Alexandria. I've got no way of returning what you're doing…so why?"

"You're asking why I'm helping you...after a week?"

"Yeah," she nodded, realising it sounded absurd.

Sighing, Rick scratched the back of his neck, glancing up at Aidan who was trying to inconspicuously listen. Thinking of all they had been through, all the problems they had back in Alexandria, he knew how to answer her question. "There are plenty of people who don't want my help," he told her plainly, thinking of Deanna and her people. "But you asked for my help…that's why."

"Okay," she said softly, nodding her head as she looked at his Colt in her hands. "Than-"

Having heard enough of her gratitude, Rick cut her off impatiently. "Do you question absolutely everything?"

It was her turn to be surprised now, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Don't you?"

The weight of her words struck a nerve, for that was indeed what he did. Rick questioned almost everything, a thousand doubts that frequently kept him up at night. He looked away from her now, staring over at the fence post they the tins had been sitting on earlier. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked solidly, not looking at her.

"Nothing's wrong," she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

Angered by her denial, Rick clenched his jaw and forced himself to take a deep breath. She was lying to him about something, the knowledge grating on his nerves. "Then fire," he said shortly, gesturing to the Colt. "Now."

Picking up on his tone, Carrie hastened to do as she was told, hoping that the new task would distract them both from what had been said. But as she would come to learn, Rick didn't often let things go. Dwelling on whatever problem she might be hiding from him, he critiqued her grip and then coached her into firing her first shot. As he expected, she jolted a little, her eyes widening as she felt the power of the weapon in her hands. She turned to him with an expression of surprised awe.

"Wow," she breathed, looking back at the gun. "That was…"

"Somethin' else," he concluded on her behalf.

"Yeah." Nodding in agreement, she tilted the gun and looked at it in her hands. "The trigger is smo…"

She trailed off now, turning back to him and seeing his expression. Though he was pleased she seemed to enjoy firing his Colt, he couldn't shake his sudden frustration with her…something had upset her, but she was putting on an act to hide it. Realising he wasn't buying it, Carrie lowered the Colt and looked away from him, uncomfortable under the strong gaze she was receiving. There was another moment of familiar awkwardness, and just as he was about to suggest they return to the prison, Carrie spoke first.

"Why are you giving me that look?" Her tone was low, her words sounding as though she was forcing them out.

"Because I know something's upset you, and you won't tell me what."

Finally returning his eye contact, she glared at him harshly and squared her shoulders. "It's none of your god damn business," she stated factually.

Although there was plenty he ought to say, demands that he should be making, Rick remained silent. Staring her down, he made sure as hell that she was the one who backed down first…and she did. Holding his gaze for a few moments, Carrie inevitably looked away, her hands shaking a little as she took a few steps towards the car. Knowing what she was trying to do, Rick followed her path and stepped in front of her, ignoring her attempt to hand his gun back. He knew he was being unnecessarily intimidating, but his frustration got the better of him for just a moment. Easing off just a little, he tilted his head as he looked at her again, waiting until she returned his gaze.

Finally she did, and when she looked at him again it was with an expression of resignation. Perhaps whatever was causing her such distress really was none of his business, but that didn't change anything else. They were there that day to shoot…and she wasn't getting out of it before his say so. Producing six new .38 rounds, he held them out to her expectantly.

"I didn't say we were finished," he told her.

Looking uncomfortable, but resigned to her fate, Carrie slowly reached out and took the six rounds from his hand. Following his instructions, she emptied the single shell from the chamber and loaded the six new rounds, her hands still shaking a little. As he instructed her to aim for the fence post this time, Rick took a few steps back to afford her some personal space. Perhaps the space benefitted her, for she squared her shoulders and raised her head confidently, taking the stance he had showed her earlier.

With worry pooled in the pit of his stomach, Rick watched her fire with renewed vigour.

* * *

Forty minutes later, Rick brought the Hyundai through the gates of the prison and parked it just inside the interior fence. Looking in the rear vision mirror, he watched as Aidan dragged the heavy gate closed, next taking count of the Walkers that had impaled themselves on the spikes. Conscious of how much packing there was to do before their departure, Rick looked back to the rear vision mirror and wondered what was taking Aidan so long. It took a moment for him to realise that he was struggling with the padlock. That was the one that always stuck a little, and it required a more gentle touch to coax it into turning. No doubt Aidan was yanking the key around in the lock, making it worse. With the car idling, Rick waited for him, knowing that the lower field wasn't secure enough to leave him down there by himself.

Withholding the long sigh he wanted to emit, he glanced at Carrie from the corner of his eye, annoyed to still see her wearing a renewed expression of polite contentment. It grated on his nerves, for he knew that behind whatever facade she was trying to present to him, something was wrong…but she wasn't willing to share it with him. Watching Carrie from the corner of his eye, it crossed his mind that whatever was bothering her was being caused by someone in their group. If that was the case, then it needed to be address before tomorrow. Though their trip south to Georgia had passed with little conflict, he knew the longer trip north might not be so comfortable.

"It's none of my business?" Rick began without thinking, unable to hold it in any longer. "Fine, I can accept that. All I want to know, is if someone in this group is bothering you."

Giving an exasperated sigh, Carrie replied. "There's noth-"

"Am I bothering you?"

"No," she assured him, reluctantly meeting his eye. "No one's bothering me, Rick."

"Something is though, right?"

There was a short pause in which she looked down at her lap. "Yes."

Waiting for her to continue, Rick checked on Aidan again, glad to see he had secured the external gate and was now working on the internal. Carrie was looking out the window now, her eyes squinting as she looked up at the prison above them. Her hands were clasped in her lap, her fingers white as she clenched them tightly.

"Do you want to talk to someone else about it?" he asked again. "Michonne?"

Carrie shook her head, releasing a slow breath and forcing her shoulders to relax. She looked at him properly now, steeling herself. "Can we talk in private? Just you and me?"

"Of course."

"Now?"

He frowned, surprised by her urgency. "Sure."

As Aidan began returning to the car, Rick stepped out of the driver's seat and prompted Carrie to follow him. "Aidan. Take the car up please. Bring the bag inside. We'll be up in a minute."

Aidan seemed surprised, but as he had learnt to do with Rick's group, he just did as he was told. Not even bothering to send Carrie a flirtatious smile in attempt to recover the ground work he lost that day, he jumped into the car and took it back up to where the others were parked. Watching him take the bag of guns back inside, Rick turned his attention to Carrie, beginning to feel a little nervous about what it was she had to tell him.

"So, what is it?" Rick asked her.

Looking terrible uncomfortable, Carrie pushed her hair behind her ears, hesitating before she finally told him.

"Rick, I lied to you about something...something important."

* * *

A/N Thank you so much to my amazing reviewers, especially the repeat reviewers! Your feedback makes my day.

Everything in here about guns I learnt from YouTube and Google, so if there are mistakes that you have picked up, feel free to let me know.


	18. Chapter 18

"Rick I lied to you...about something important."

Completely taken aback, Rick looked at her blankly for a few moments, thinking he had misheard her. "You what?"

Shifting her weight onto her other foot, she repeated what she had said. "I lied to you."

Looking at her, he let her words sink in as what she had said dawned on him. Giving an incredulous laugh, he realised that she wasn't joking…that she was serious. "When?"

"The day you picked me up."

He felt himself tense up, his hackles raised. "The three questions I asked you?"

She nodded timidly, her expression and body language nervous. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Rick forced himself to look away as he clenched his jaw, not wanting her to see the full extent of his anger. He began to feel immensely stupid, realising she had broken his trust the very day he met her. Since then, the two of them had developed a comfortable, albeit occasionally awkward rapport. Hell, they had kissed the other night…they had nearly kissed an hour ago. Now this? Although he should have expected it, her dishonesty made him feel like someone had pulled a rug out from underneath him.

"I don't ask those questions to make conversation," he said lowly, looking at her again. Though he was restraining himself, his voice was seething.

"I know," she replied quietly. She looked painfully uncomfortable, her shoulders hunched as she looked at him anxiously.

Looking down at the gravel driveway, Rick took a deep breath to calm himself down. Though his anger was righteous, he knew he had to approach Carrie in a certain way. If she had lied to him about how many people she killed or why she killed them, it can't have been easy for her to tell him the truth. Clearly the guilt had been weighing on her mind, compounded by how much he and his group were doing for her. Looking back at her, he knew he had to facilitate the truth now...he couldn't allow his poor reaction to foster another lie, one which she might tell in order to deflect his anger. He needed the truth, and she needed him to let her tell it.

"What did you lie to me about?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain level. "How many people you killed, or why you killed them?"

"How many."

He had suspected as much. "Alright," he muttered, pausing for a moment. With a short sigh he looked around the lower field, partly to check that they were secure, and partly to give himself a moment to think. "I'm going to let you answer my questions again, and this time don't lie to me."

"I won't."

"How many people have you killed?"

"Six."

Rick frowned at this, a little surprised. The day he picked her up she had confessed to killing four, and yet the truth was six? The number was not worth lying about, not by any means. Hell, he had lost count of the people he had killed. But in the end, he knew it wasn't the number of people that really mattered.

"Why did you kill them?"

Taking a deep breath, Carrie recounted the same story she originally told him. "Two of them asked me to, because they were bit. One of them was an accident, and one of them was trying to rape me."

"And the other two?"

She looked extremely uncomfortable, and was shifting her weight from one foot to the other. But when she spoke, she looked him in the eye. "Do you remember the men I told you about? The ones that tried to hurt my group?"

He nodded, recalling the conversation. "You said you negotiated with them."

"Yes, I did," she confirmed, pausing for a moment. "But they only wanted sex."

Rick's breath caught in his throat, a great deal of understanding hitting him at once. "They raped you?"

"I agreed to it." Uncomfortable, she fiddled with her hair again, tucking it behind her ear. "But yeah...I guess you'd call it that."

"I would," he nodded, looking at the ground as he clenched his jaw. He wanted to put the conversation to a stop, feeling that her simple explanation justified what she had done. She shouldn't have to explain herself to him, but a part of him needed to hear it, to know everything. "What happened?"

When she spoke now, her tone was plain and factual. "I agreed to what they wanted, but only from me. We had a thirteen year old with us…Shannon. I wanted to keep them away from her. The agreement was that when it was over, they'd take half our supplies, and go. But they stayed."

"Why did they stay?"

She raised an eyebrow at this question. "For more."

"Right," he said shortly, realising the stupidity of the question. "Sorry."

"Anyway," she continued bravely, recounting her story for him. "By the third day, things started to get ugly. The main guy, Victor, he and I had an argument. A little while later, I caught him trying to convince Shannon to…you know, go upstairs with him. I lost it…I just saw red. The idiot left his gun in my room, and so I shot two of them."

"How many were there?"

"Four." Restless, she raised her hand and fiddled with the end of her pony tail. "One of them, Ross, he was actually okay. He didn't touch me, and he actually ended up staying with us for a while."

Keeping track of her story, Rick looked for holes or omissions, though her body language told him she was being truthful. "You said shot two of them, and let one stay…what about the other?"

A small smile actually crossed her face at this. "Shooting him would have been too easy. I drove him a few hours away, and then dumped him near a group of Walkers."

"And this was a different group to the ones who attacked you next? When you were on the road."

She nodded. "There're plenty out there."

Rick sighed, not only wishing he hadn't pushed her to tell him something she shouldn't be forced to share, but also wishing that he knew what to say. "The same thing almost happened to Carl," he told her, though he suspected she knew that already. "I think it was the same group that attacked you on the road."

"Like I said…there're plenty out there."

"Yes, there are." He frowned as he looked at her, mulling his words over. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Carrie just shrugged at this, her eyes looking around the lower field for a few moments. "I did what I had to do…to protect my group."

What she had said to him at The BigSpot, the passionate declaration that she could protect her group, it suddenly made perfect sense to him. He had questioned her ability to protect the group without a gun…it was no wonder she fired up at that given what she had experienced. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the Walkers that had impaled themselves on the spikes by the fallen fences. Rick watched one as its arms flailed about, it's head lolling as it kept trying to reach them.

"Why did you lie to me about it?" he suddenly asked her, still not understanding that. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth when I asked you the first time?"

She looked at him in disbelief now, laughing shortly. "Are you kidding me? There's no way I could have told you the truth."

"Of course yo-"

"Rick, before you picked me up, I was lying in the dirt for two days, just waiting to die," she began imperatively, needing him to understand. "And then out of no where, there you were. You were offering me help with no strings attached. There's no way I could have told you what I did…what I was willing to do."

Giving her position consideration, he slowly nodded at her. "I understand."

"I would have done anything to get in your car. Anything."

"I know you would have," he agreed, remembering the state she was in. Her vulnerability that day was not lost on him. When he offered her hep, she had asked him what she'd have to do for him…though he had understood what she was asking, her apparent willingness to do it had great impact.

Rick heard his name being called, and he looked up at the prison to follow the familiar voice. Carl was standing in the courtyard by the tank, looking at him expectantly. Raising his hand he gave him a brief wave, but shook his head when it looked like Carl was going to come down. There was a long moment in which Carl looked at him in confusion, perhaps wondering what the problem was. Glancing at Carrie, Rick shook his head again, knowing that their conversation wasn't yet finished. Resigning himself to having to wait, Carl reluctantly turned and headed back to C Block, leaving his father and Carrie to talk.

Returning his attention to her, he took note of her body language. As he expected she might, she looked relieved to have told him the truth, her posture a little more relaxed now. But her discomfort still lingered, and he had no doubt that she was wondering if there would be consequences resulting from her untruthfulness, if he was going to be terribly mad. His mind running through everything she had just told him, the strength it must have required, he felt like he needed to share something in return. Strangely enough, he found he wanted to share something, this notion taking him by surprise.

"Glenn told you about Shane?" he began tentatively.

Carrie raised her eyebrow at this. "He told me never to bring him up…Michonne too."

"And yet you brought him up the other night. In the guard tower?"

"Yeah," she said apologetically. "I was…testing you. I wanted to see how easy you were to anger."

He had suspected as much. "Did Glenn tell you how Shane died?"

"No."

Taking a deep breath, Rick glanced down at the ground, surprised that he was sharing this information. It had been quite some time since he talked about this, and now he was sharing it with a woman he'd known barely a week. "I killed him. A year and a half ago now."

"Wasn't he your friend?" she asked after a long pause.

"Since we were children."

"You must have had a pretty good reason to do that." Her comment held an unspoken request that he explain.

"When all this started, I was in a coma," he started, casting his mind right back to the beginning. "When things got bad, Shane had to leave me behind. He wanted to get Lori and Carl somewhere safe, but she refused to leave without me. I don't know exactly what he said, but he told her I was dead, and then made she and Carl go with him to find somewhere safe."

"That's what you would have wanted?"

"Yes," he nodded emphatically. "He did everything I would have asked, right up until he started sleeping with her."

"Oh," Carrie muttered, beginning to understand a few other things.

There was an awkward pause now, neither of them entirely sure what to say next. Carrie seemed to be waiting patiently, and so Rick continued.

"When I got back to them, I figured out pretty quick what had happened. Given what Shane had told her, I didn't hold Lori to blame…she and I worked things out, but Shane wouldn't let it go. He kept acting like I was stepping in on him, not the other way around."

"Is that why you killed him?"

"For taking advantage of Lori? No," he shook his head, feeling a small amount of this particular burden lifting from his shoulders. "But when we found out she was pregnant, he started harassing her, insisting the baby was his. He was causing problems with the whole group. He ended up trying to kill me, twice. Things just came to a head, and I knew I'd have to kill him first."

"I understand," she said quietly, hastening to explain when he frowned at her. "You did what you had to do. Just like I did."

"Yeah," he nodded slowly. "I did."

There was yet another silence now, both of them absorbing what the other had told them. A cold breeze suddenly swept through the lower field, rustling the trees and signalling that the afternoon was drawing to a close. Concerned about the time, he glanced at his watch and saw that there were only a few hours of daylight left. They still had a lot of work to do…but his conversation with Carrie still didn't feel complete. He looked at her expectantly, glad when he saw that she was going to speak again.

"Rick. The day you picked me up, you told me that I had to earn your trust."

He nodded, clearly remembering this. Walking her back from the woods where she had cleaned herself up, Rick's thinly veiled threats had stemmed from his mistrust of her, his suspicion of anyone who hadn't yet proven themselves trustworthy. It was difficult to comprehend that it had been barely a week since then.

"I'm sorry for breaking your trust…for breaking it before I had even earned it."

"I understand why you lied," he assured her, wanting to make that clear. "What I don't understand, is why you're telling me the truth now. I wasn't asking. You could have never told anyone."

"Come on, Rick," she scoffed. "You see right through me."

"Okay," he gave a short laugh, not having realised this.

"Besides, with everything you've done for me, I didn't want to lie anymore. Not to you."

Accepting this, he shifted his weight as he looked her in the eye. "I accept your explanation. Your apology too."

"Thank you," she said gratefully, though she looked a little uncomfortable. Looking around now, she restlessly touched her hair again, her lips pressed together tightly. "What I told you just now…can we keep that between us, please?"

He looked at her in surprise, having had no intentions to tell anyone else. Nevertheless, he agreed to her request. "We're all entitled to our secrets, Carrie. God knows I have enough of them," he muttered.

"Thank you."

"About Lori and Shane," he started, needing to make this clear. "I'm almost certain that Carl doesn't know what happened. As for my daughter…Shane's involvement is not discussed. Not by anyone. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

Seeing movement, Rick cast his eyes over to the wooden spikes, not surprised to see Daryl coming back from one last hunt. With his crossbow slung over one shoulder and a sack over the other, he moved with the quiet grace that often saw him sneaking up on unsuspecting people. As he deftly climbed over the wooden spikes, he noticed Rick and Carrie down in the lower field, his head tilting to one side as he wondered what they were doing.

"Is there anything else you need to talk about?" he asked her bluntly, indicating to Daryl's approach.

Carrie shook her head slowly.

"No one in the group is giving you a hard time? No one's making you uncomfortable?"

"No, of course not."

"Am I?"

She looked momentarily alarmed, and rushed to give her answer. "No, Rick. You're not."

Trusting her answer, Rick breathed a mental sigh of relief. Given what she had just told him, he had started to worry that he might be making her uncomfortable…that what had happened the other night might not have been what she intended. An uncomfortable question suddenly presented itself to him. All of that…her apparent attraction to him…was that a strategy for her own survival?

"I should, err…head up and help with the packing," she said awkwardly, giving Daryl a quick wave. He was just reaching the gardens now, and looked unsure about whether or not he was interrupting. "Thanks for…you know."

"No problem," he replied, thoroughly relieved the conversation was over.

Without further ado, Carrie turned on her heel and departed, her hands drifting to the holstered gun on her leg as she walked. Watching her go, Rick felt increasingly weary, desiring little more than to collapse onto his bunk and sleep. The weight of the secret she had asked him to keep was heavy, and he couldn't imagine how difficult it was for her to carry.

"Hey," Daryl grunted, breaking Rick out of his thoughts. "Everythin' alright?"

Rick just nodded, clearing his throat as he turned to look at Daryl. Judging by the bulge in his satchel, his final hunt had been successful. "What did you catch?"

"Bugs Bunny," he replied shortly, peering at Rick. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Nothing."

"So that look is just for me then, huh?"

Sighing, Rick rubbed the back of his neck and relaxed his features, having not realised he was scowling. He looked up at the prison and saw Carrie disappearing behind the tank, relieved that she was gone.

"Us…the group," Rick began, needing Daryl's input. "We're honest with each other, right?"

"Why?" Daryl asked, sounding alarmed. "What have you heard?"

"Nothing, just-"

"Did Carl tell you about the…No? Never mind…" he trailed off uncomfortably. Readjusting his crossbow over his shoulder, he kept peering at Rick. "What's the problem?"

Hesitating, Rick was unsure of how much he should share. He had told Carrie he would keep their conversation between themselves, but he needed a sounding board, someone to help him rationalise what he was thinking. "Carrie lied to me about something."

"Somethin' big?"

"Yes."

"Wha' was it?"

"Can't say."

Daryl sighed, but was patient. "Alrigh'…has it changed things?"

"No…at least, I don't think so," he began, trying to sort out what he was thinking. Carrie's explanation of why she had lied hadn't changed the way things were…but her recount of what had happened to her at their hands had changed something. "I don't know. It's changed some things…not others."

"Oh good, well as long as we're clear then."

"Sorry."

"Get your ass up there," Daryl said gruffly, hitting Rick with the bag of dead rabbits as he walked past. "Your kid's driving me fuckin' nuts..."

Suspecting this was likely, Rick followed him up to C Block, peering into the back of the removal truck as he went. Most of the others were congregated in the courtyard, sorting out the supplies they had found in the BigSpot, while Abraham stood in the back of the truck arranging it all. Taking pride of place in the back was Daryl's motorcycle, lovingly secured and covered with an old sheet.

Wondering where Carl had gotten to, Rick remembered something Daryl had almost brought up down in the lower field. "By the way. Carl told me months ago that it was you who left Judith's dirty diaper on my pillow. Thanks for that."

Scowling, Daryl grunted, "Little shit…"

"The one time you change her diaper, and you do that to me?"

"I change diapers all the time," Daryl protested, lighting a cigarette. "You just ain't there to see it."

"Funny, no one is."

Leaving their conversation at that, Rick gave the others a quick nod in greeting before heading into C Block. He didn't know where Carrie was, and part of him hoped he didn't run into her for a little while at least. Still digesting what she had told him, the impact of what she had been through, Rick entered his cell and pulled the blanket across, engulfing himself in the comfort of darkness. Knowing he would eventually have to return to the group and help them pack, Rick collapsed onto his bunk and closed his eyes, desiring nothing more than to rest a while.

* * *

It was steadily approaching nine o'clock, and the thought of calling it a night and going to bed early had certainly crossed everyone's mind. Their supplies were packed and well organised, evenly distributed between the removal truck and the military truck with room for more, and their vehicles were mechanically sound and gassed up. Tomorrow morning their intention was simply to roll out of their beds and straight into the cars. With coffee in their travel mugs they would make an early departure and eat as they drove, taking advantage of every minute of daylight afforded to them. While their journey south hadn't exactly been hiccup free, they anticipated their journey back north to be longer.

Unsure of their final plans for the journey to Alexandria, Carrie glanced over at the other round table in the common room. Abraham and Aaron were engaged in an intense discussion about their route home, their brows furrowed as they bent over the road guide and flicked through its pages. Though they seemed to be proposing various options, Carrie got the feeling they had discussed this many times before tonight. Rick sat with them, overseeing their plans in his own, unobtrusive way. He listened quietly, nodding every so often and commenting only when asked.

Becoming more and more like a second shadow, Carl was lingering by Rick's side, but unlike his father, he was engaged in deep conversation with the other two men. The three of them talked animatedly, Abraham tracing out a route and explaining it to the teen. She had already deduced that Carl was quite particular which adults he befriended, for he wasn't often seen hanging around Nicholas or Tobin. It wasn't too difficult to see how he chose which people to share his company with. She got the feeling that Carl actually liked Abraham and Aaron. Just like Daryl and Glenn, they didn't talk down to him like he was just a kid. Perhaps they too realised that in reality, Carl's age was not indicative of his maturity.

As their route was finalised, Aaron unfolded an enormous map of the eastern states and passed Carl a green highlighter. Spreading the map out on the table, he coached Carl to mark out their route, using a different colour to make note of their alternative roads and those that were not safe. As Aaron and Abraham looked over Carl's shoulder, Rick instead looked over at the others who were already eating. He looked at Carrie for a moment, his shoulders straightening a little as he realised she was looking at him too. It was likely a welcome change for him, for usually it was she who caught him looking, not the other way around. She gave him a tentative smile, wishing she knew what he was thinking.

She couldn't help but wonder how much damage she had done, worried about the effect her story would have. If telling him she had lied to him wasn't bad enough, telling him she had been raped by a group of men was sure to turn him off her completely. Furious with herself for being so honest, she worried that she had ruined things between them. Even though they hadn't done anything more than drunkenly make out and feel each other up in the dark, she'd been hoping for two days now that they'd do it again, although perhaps without the copious amounts of alcohol. But that afternoon, everything Rick was doing for her began to weigh on her shoulders, and the guilt of her deceit reared its ugly head. Not only had he saved her from an inevitable death, he was providing her with everything she needed to make it in this world…he was taking her back to his home, and the depth of this was not lost on her. This man had a family…two children to consider, and he was letting her into that world. Many before him who had less to lose hadn't been so generous.

Further to that, Carrie increasingly got the feeling that Rick could see straight through her. Like many others, she woke up each morning and put on a particular mask, knowing that she needed to appear strong and viable so at least she might start to feel that way. But when Rick had told her to kill the Walker on its knees, execution style, she couldn't help the reaction she had. His instructions instantly took her back to the last time she had shot a person like that…the last person she had actually executed. Though she was justified in her actions, months later the moment haunted her, and she could still picture the way the man's head jerked back as though she had kicked him in the face.

 _These men had been here three days now, and Carrie didn't know how much longer she could take it._

 _Swallowing heavily, she was still horrified by the act she had managed to stop at the very last second. Victor had absolutely no shame for what he was doing to her, but until then she thought he'd draw the line at taking advantage of Shannon, a thirteen year old child. Picturing the girl on her knees in front of Victor, his trousers halfway around his thighs, Carrie wanted to vomit, wondering how on earth she could let this man touch her again now that she knew the type of thoughts that went through his head._

 _Hearing the front door open again, Carrie quickly slipped through the bedroom door and into the hallway, crouching down so that she could get the right angle. From her vantage point, she just managed to see the top of Jenna's head as she reentered the house, leaving Shannon alone on watch. Annoyed by the new display of stupidity, for surely Jenna knew what had almost happened to the poor girl, Carrie wondered what to do, whether she should go downstairs and intervene. Just as she decided to go back into her room and await Victor's return, she heard his heavy footsteps as he strutted through the living room. Hesitating, she waited for him to come to the staircase and look up at her, smirking as he said something to try and rile her up for another argument, to give him an excuse to hurt her again._

 _But to her horror he didn't come for the staircase. Instead, she saw the top of his head as he approached the front door, and she had no doubt about why he was going outside. She waited just a second for one of her group members to say something, for them to stop him going outside and being alone with Shannon again…but they didn't. Furious with the cowardice shown by people she trusted, Carrie saw red, and everything she had been through since the outbreak came to a peak inside of her. She was the only one who was going to do anything…the only one who understood what was at stake for Shannon, and she had to do something about it._

 _"Victor!" she shouted angrily, launching herself to her feet. Racing down the stairs, she grabbed a porcelain knick knack from the corner shelf and held it tightly. The moment he came into her sights she threw it at him, satisfied when it shattered across his face, a streak of blood appearing on his cheek._

 _He growled like an animal wounded, his face twisting in fury as he raised his hand to his cheek and felt the blood there. "You stupid bitch!" he yelled at her, Seth suddenly appearing out of nowhere and grabbing him as he lunged. Stopped by the arm around his chest, Victor's fury drained away into laughter, and seconds later he was smiling at Carrie as though in admiration. "Oh, just you wait, Bitch…it's on now," he taunted her, shrugging Seth off and flexing his shoulders._

 _As though on instinct, his right hand drifted towards the holster on his hip, and Carrie saw the precise moment when he went to wrap his hand around his gun. He faltered a little, his brow pinching as he turned and looked at his empty holster, confused. Suddenly remembering he had left his gun upstairs, he gave a feral yell and lunged for her again, stopped only by Seth who didn't yet understand._

 _Carrie bolted back to the first floor, her mind racing. Knowing she had started something that had to be finished, she made a split second about what way it was going to go down. When these men had arrived on her doorstep three days ago, their guns drawn and their eyes alight with intent to kill, Carrie had stood down. Her group had a gun, but she couldn't bear the thought of killing anyone. She knew that's how some people had to survive these days, but until now she'd largely avoided the worst of what the outbreak had done to humanity. She'd killed three people already; two from mercy, and one by accident…she didn't want that number to grow._

 _Now though, the situation had come to a head, and she knew she had to do it. The deal had gone bad from the very beginning, and while at first she thought she could cope, she knew she couldn't do it any more. Not like this…not if they were going to hurt Shannon too. Not protecting Shannon would mean that everything Carrie had been through; the humiliation, the degradation…it would be for nothing._

 _Hearing someone in hot pursuit, Carrie sprinted across the bedroom and practically fell upon the gun. It was loaded, she knew that from when Victor had pushed it inside her and threatened to pull the trigger. Pausing only long enough to turn off the safety switch, she wheeled around and pointed it at the person who had chased her up the stairs. With a single pull of the trigger, Seth fell where he stood in the doorway, his hand clutching his chest as his gun went flying back. Carrie watched it's arc as it disappeared out of sight, loudly clattering down the wooden staircase._

 _Stepping over Seth, Carrie flew down the stairs, feeling a surge of justified power as she saw Victor scrambling to grab the falling gun. She fired at him and missed spectacularly, but the gunshot was enough to make him stop. Hearing Sue screaming, Carrie took a deep breath and slowly descended the stairs, pointing Victor's own weapon at him. There was a mad scramble of doors opening and people bursting in, and while she was dimly aware that Granger and Ross had both appeared, their guns pointed at her threateningly, she didn't care. Indulging herself, she looked at the expression of fear on Victor's face, wondering how many times he had seen it on hers._

 _Glancing up for a moment, she took note of the two guns pointed at her, indifferent to their presence. Instead she looked for Shannon…she stood in the far corner behind Jenna and Tim, who for once were actually doing their part to protect her. Turning back to Victor now, she told him to get down on his knees, feeling immensely satisfied when he slowly did as he was told. He looked at her with a mixed expression of pride and fear._

 _"I knew you were fiery, Georgia," he said, taunting her._

 _"That's not my name," she smiled, pleased to see a flash of annoyance cross Victor's face. They didn't like it when she defied them._

 _"What are you going to do then, huh?" Granger laughed next. "You got my gun, sure…you got two others pointed at you too."_

 _Knowing he was right, Carrie turned her attention back to the aforementioned weapons, trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this. She couldn't use her body to her advantage this time, but she didn't need it. Her co-workers had always laughed that she could talk other people into anything, a talent that was often advantageous in the world of business and advertising._

 _"Ross," she said quietly, looking him in the eye as she considered her words. "You haven't hurt me yet."_

 _Ross shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting over to Granger and Victor. They didn't know that he wouldn't have sex with her, that the hours in which he spent alone with her were actually spent in silence. He had been protecting her for the last three days, doing his best to keep the others in line and enforcing their agreement every time her particular refusals were ignored. But there was no use hiding it now, not when it had come to this._

 _"You haven't hurt me yet," she reminded him, appealing to his rational side. "Please don't start now, Ross…please."_

 _He looked at her long and hard, but Carrie knew what he was going to do, perhaps even before he did. Despite his association with the other men, she trusted him…he was different, and he wanted nothing to do with the agreement that had been made three days ago. Finally, he let out a slow breath and turned his rifle on Granger instead, the other man's eyes widening comically._

 _"Ross. What the fuck?" he growled._

 _"Put it down, Granger," Ross told him, one of the rare times Carrie actually heard him speak. "Don't be an idiot."_

 _Carrie waited until Granger reluctantly lowered the gun he had pointed at her, feeling her heart fill with elation when he finally did. Watching as he lowered it to the ground and took a step back, she turned her attention back to Victor. Moving closer, for this was a shot she didn't want to miss, she held the gun in one hand and pulled the trigger. His head jerked back as though she had kicked him, his body crumbling down to the floor with a thud. The bullet hole in the centre of his forehead assured her he wouldn't be getting up again._

Looking at Rick now, Carrie was glad she had told him the truth. Given the way he seemed to look right through her facade, she knew it was going to come out one way or another, regardless of the fact that dead men didn't talk. Maybe if it had been someone else she might not have said as much as she did, but with Rick she felt the need to be honest with him, to be completely candid about what she had done and why. In the end, her candidness had been returned, and he too had openly shared something about himself, the story of what he had been forced to do to his own best friend. Thinking of Rick's daughter, she didn't blame him for what he had done to protect her, to protect his whole family. He too understood that Walkers were more of a nuisance nowadays, and that it was people who were the main threat.

"For God's sake, Abraham!" Rosita chastised him. "Come and eat with us."

"You just settle down now, Baby," Abraham replied smoothly, his attention focused on the maps. "I'm coming."

"You said that ten minutes ago," she grumbled, putting her fork down. "Your food is getting cold!"

"It's two minute noodles…cold is an advantage."

There was a short pause, the group looking over at Rosita as they eagerly awaited what she would say next. The heated debates that frequently befell this couple were amusing to watch, the two strong personalities always getting fired up and directing it at one another.

"You've talked about this for weeks now. We know where we're going."

Abraham gave a long, exasperated sigh. Finally giving her his attention, he raised his eyebrows at her. "Go on then, Sweet Cheeks…where are we going?"

Rising to his challenge, Rosita crossed her arms. "We're doubling back to Silverpine and staying in the motel again. From there we're heading northeast to Rock Hill, of which there are three alternative routes, each with their own disadvantages. After Rock Hill is Scotland Neck, and then on to Franklin, of which there are two alternative routes along the way, and one road we definitely should not be taking. We're stopping in Franklin to check out the underground bunker owned by the crazy doomsday guy, and then there's a Walmart Super Centre in the town that hasn't been touched. After Franklin we're going to Richmond and then Alexandria…questions?"

Abraham just smiled at her. "Come to my cell tonight?"

"You don't deserve me in your cell," Rosita rolled her eyes. "Now come and eat with us. Please."

Shaking his head to himself, Rick shrugged at Abraham and indicated that maybe they should avoid Rosita's impending wrath. The four of them put down their maps and pens and came to join them, Rick and Aaron lingering to confirm one last detail. Hobbling over to the table, Carl sat down near Carrie while Abraham went to his delegated spot with Rosita. As he came over to the table, Rick hesitated when he saw the stool Carl had left for him…right next to Carrie. His hesitation was only brief, and he quickly sat down and lifted the lid on the styrofoam cup of noodles, stopping to make sure that Carl had everything he needed.

As he began eating, Carrie got the distinct impression that Rick didn't quite know where to look, perhaps cursing Carl for making him take the last seat beside Carrie. His left hand was clenched into a fist on the table, his other twirling his fork into the cup of noodles a little longer than necessary. While the others were talking animatedly, there was another of those uncomfortable moments between Rick and Carrie, moments that seemed to come and go without warning. Until that afternoon Carrie had simply put these moments down to them both feeling nervous and awkward around one another, but now self-doubt lingered. Perhaps it was awkward because of everything that had been said that afternoon, because Rick was no longer attracted to her.

Turning her attention back to her own food, Carrie glared at her noodles as though they had offended her. Rick was probably disgusted by her now, turned off by the knowledge of what she had done for those men. Even though he hadn't actually indicated anything of the sort, Carrie felt defensive already, not believing that she was nothing more than damaged goods. Being forced to have sex to protect her group didn't mean she was a broken toy, nor that she couldn't feel genuine attraction for another man.

Uncomfortable on the hard steel seats, Carrie readjusted her position and crossed one leg over the other. The sole of her boot accidentally bumped against something, and judging by the way Rick suddenly lurched beside her, it wasn't the underside of the table. His eyes were wide as he looked at her, his lips parting a little.

"Sorry," she apologised, feeling colour rise in her cheeks. "Did I kick you?"

"It's," he started awkwardly, glancing over at Carl. Still engrossed in what Abraham and Aaron had to say about their return home, Carl hadn't even noticed. Rick looked back at her now, his expression polite and friendly. "It's fine."

Trying not to look amused, Carrie turned back to her food now and continued eating, Rick doing the same a moment later. But as though her accidental bump had awoken him to the fact that she was beside him, his eyes kept drifting over to her. She could feel him watching her from the corner of his eye, his breaths shallow and measured. Noting the way he watched her, her mind did a complete turn around yet again, and she began wondering if everything she had just worried about was all in her head. Maybe what she had told him that day hadn't changed anything.

She tried to think about something else, she really did, but before she could start paying attention to what the others were saying, she noticed the smile Rick was giving her. It was small, the corner of his mouth upturned just a little, but it was noticeable enough to get her attention. Feeling bold, she turned and looked at him properly, holding her breath as he did the same. There was a long moment in which the awkwardness of before vanished, and she found herself smiling back at him in return. Surrounded by the entire group, not to mention Carl, there was nothing she could do except try to keep her smile polite, although she knew exactly what she'd like to do to wipe that smile off his face.

Clearing his throat, Rick raised his left hand off the table and scratched the coarse hair on his jaw, looking away from Carrie as he did so. His hand drifted below the table and came to rest on his leg, but it was the look he gave her that took her by surprise. Tentative but hopeful, his eyes darted down to his hand and then back at her, his expression saying all she needed to hear. Deducing what he was hopeful for, Carrie was not surprised to find herself tempted, despite all the worries she just had about exactly this.

Returning his tentative smile, Carrie uncrossed her legs and readjusted the way she sat, turning her legs a little more towards him. The prison furniture wasn't exactly conducive to what they wanted, but they made the best of it. As he too shifted a little their knees pressed against one another, the brief touch sparking arousal that made her want to clench her legs together. Keeping her expression polite and neutral, Carrie waited for him to do something, her heart pounding in keen anticipation.

It seemed like forever before he acted, but finally she felt him tentatively touching the side of her leg. Inconspicuously glancing down, she smiled as she saw the tips of his fingers pressed against her, his hand lingering there as he tried to gauge her reaction. He was exercising caution, perhaps worried that he was misreading her. Wanting to be clear, she pressed her knee against his a little more firmly, making sure he saw her smile before returning her expression to a neutral state. Pretending to listen to the table's discussion, she was distinctly aware of the three fingers pressed against her leg, excitedly anticipating the rest of his hand.

Finally he followed through. Shifting a little closer to her, he tried to hide what he was doing from the others, and he glanced at Carl on his right. He held his breath as he placed his whole hand on the top of her thigh, his touch featherlight until he allowed himself to relax a little. Looking around, she was glad to see that the others didn't appear to have noticed that Rick was doing anything out of the ordinary.

Keeping a straight face, Carrie twirled her fork around in the noodles and continued eating, while beside her Rick did the same. She tried to divide her attention between eating and listening to the discussion of their route to Alexandria, but only fifteen seconds was required to demonstrate this wasn't possible. Tuning out of the conversation, she straightened up a little and then glanced down at Rick's hand on her leg. His hand felt heavier than it really was, his fingers impossibly long as they traced small circles on the spot. He spread his fingers out and moved his hand down towards her knee, lingering there before bringing it back up as high as he dared. Enjoying the sensations his touch elicited, she slowly breathed out and picked up her fork again.

A loud thud shook the table, and in an instant Rick retracted his hand. Looking around guiltily, Carrie slowly breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the group's attention was on the opposite side of the table. Her relief was short lived though, and she felt her stomach begin twisting into knots as Rosita appeared from beneath the other side of the table. She was rubbing the top of her head, and there was a strange expression on her face.

"What are you doing under the table?" Abraham asked in confusion, frowning at her.

"Just picking something up," she answered, placing a green highlighter on the table. Casting her eyes on Rick and Carrie, Rosita began to smile, looking far too amused for their comfort. "I'm fine, by the way. Thanks Abraham," she said sarcastically.

Carrie returned her attention to her noodles and pointedly ignored Rick, knowing she wouldn't be able to keep her face straight if she looked at him. From the corner of her eye she watched as he nervously scratched his jaw, he too trying to play it cool despite knowing what Rosita must have seen. A few awkward moments passed, and from the corner of her eye she saw his left hand clenched into an angry fist. Making the mistake of looking across the table, she caught Rosita's eye and blushed when she winked at her.

Feeling as though everyone at the table must be looking at her, Carrie kept her eyes focused on her noodles, wondering if getting up and leaving would look too obvious. Just as this thought occurred to her, Rick cleared his throat and got to his feet, likely seeking an escape route.

"Where are you going?" Carl asked, tearing his attention away from Abraham and Aaron's continued discussion.

"I'm having an early night," he answered, throwing the styrofoam cup in their makeshift trash bin. "You should too."

"It's not even nine o'clock."

"Go on," Aaron encouraged, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. "You won't miss out on anything except Abe worrying."

"I'm not worried," Abraham protested. "Does this face look worried?"

Rick and Carl talked quietly for a few moments, outlining the need to take a final shower before they departed the next morning. Quickly finishing his food, Carl picked up his crutches and followed Rick back into the cell block to get their things. A minute later they passed through the common room and headed into the tombs, Carrie making a point of not looking at him as he passed. The meal was finished quickly, and wanting to make herself useful, she offered to clean up.

Filling the plastic tub with a mixture of cold water and boiled water, she added some detergent and started washing the few items that had been used to prepare the rabbit meat. They needed to put away the majority of their food preparation supplies tonight, leaving out only the things they would need for coffee tomorrow morning. With that in mind, Carrie made sure she washed everything that had been used, glad when the others threw away the last of the styrofoam cups and brought the used cutlery to her.

Joining the clean up, Rosita picked up a kitchen towel and started drying the items as they were washed, stacking them back in the plastic tubs they belonged to. Avoiding eye contact, Carrie struggled to keep a straight face, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Rosita brought up what she had seen under the table.

"What was that I just saw?" Rosita whispered barely thirty seconds later.

Glancing at her, Carrie was amused to see Rosita smirking at her, expectantly waiting for an explanation. "I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered coyly, looking back into the soapy water.

"Right…got you," Rosita nodded. There was a short pause, Rosita's amused expression not fading. "So, you and Rick, huh?"

"We're not," she automatically began denying, her words only half the truth.

"Not what?"

"Not anything," she hissed, trying to keep her face straight. "Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hmmm," Rosita muttered to herself. "Interesting."

Against her better judgement, Carrie had to ask. "What's interesting?"

"Nothing," she smiled, winking at her again.

"That's right," Carrie agreed sharply, scrubbing at the forks a little harder than necessary. "Nothing."

* * *

It was just after midnight when Rick roused from sleep, his body clock automatically adjusted to his routine from the prison. Staring at the underside of the bunk above, he sighed as he rubbed his forehead, weary from the long day prior. Nevertheless he sat up from his warm bed, automatically slipping his feet into his boots and pulling on his duty belt in complete darkness. Shrugging on his jacket, he slipped out of his cell and began making the rounds, just as he had done every night during their time at the prison. The old routine brought him comfort, taking him back to the life he had lived there. Always the first awake to tend the gardens, Rick tended to go to bed earlier than most, usually only a few hours after Judith.

Regardless of his early morning work, Rick roused just after midnight every night and did his rounds, checking on the people that made up the prison community. He always started in C Block, walking slowly so that his boots didn't echo too loudly. He'd check on D Block next, and then the tombs, just in case anyone was awake to use the bathroom. In the nine months they were there he rarely came across a problem in the middle of the night. To the Woodbury residents in particular, the tombs were too dark and frightening to navigate at night, even when their lanterns were lit. Aside from an awkward encounter with Glenn and Maggie in the library, he rarely found anyone awake.

Halfway down C Block, something made him pause outside one of the cells. Although he claimed not to have superior hearing, he could often tell when someone happened to be out of their cell, even without pulling back the privacy curtain. Tonight, something told him the cell that should have been occupied, was empty. Observing the blanket that covered the entrance, Rick noted this was Carrie's, and he wondered where she might be at this time of night. Standing outside it for a moment, he listened again for the sounds of breathing or movement. Pulling back the curtain he peeked inside, feeling like a creep. Just as he expected, her cell was empty. Looking inside properly now, he saw her shoes and jacket were gone.

Finishing up in C Block, he walked underneath the catwalk where Daryl slept and headed into the tombs, not bothering to check on D. His flashlight guiding him, Rick walked through the empty corridors, feeling a sense of sadness he had been grappling with all afternoon. They were leaving at sunrise tomorrow morning. This could very well be the last time he walked through the tombs. Although Glenn had said they could come back here one day, if Alexandria ever fell, Rick knew it was a fool's errand. The prison had been their home, a community Rick longed to regain…but they couldn't regress. Glenn was wrong about returning to the prison, but right about Alexandria. Rick had to settle in there properly…he had to start calling it home. By the same token, he had to stop thinking of the prison as his home.

Emerging into the cold darkness outside, Rick zipped up his jacket and began checking on the courtyard, grateful that the stubbly growth on his face kept his cheeks a little warmer than usual. His new refusal to shave was driving Michonne nuts, she having always been the one who told him to do it. Despite this, he would shave when he returned to Alexandria…if anything just to stop her annoyed huffs.

"Hey."

The soft voice startled Rick, the beam from his flashlight lurching as he looked around. Rolling his eyes to himself, he turned round and shone the flashlight on Carrie. She sat innocently on the prison bleachers, smirking at the reaction her greeting had aroused.

"Did I startle you again, Sheriff Grimes?"

"Yes," he admitted, looking away from her. Shining the flashlight around, he checked the fences and then looked out into the field below, pleased to see no signs of life. He glanced up to the guard tower, knowing Nicholas was on watch...and was likely asleep. Looking back at Carrie now, he tried not to notice how the soft moonlight fell on her features, highlighting them. "What are you doing out here?"

She raised a mug in her hands, a tea bag dangling over the side. "Couldn't sleep," she offered as an answer.

Nodding his head, Rick walked past her back towards C Block. "That tea's bad for you."

"Only to the unbeliever."

Leaving her to it, he headed back inside, but found his footsteps began to slow. By the time he had made it halfway across the common room, he had stopped altogether, an interesting idea occurring to him. Carrie was completely alone right now…he could go out and talk to her. His attraction to her was reciprocated, he was confident of that much. She had after all, willingly kissed him in the guard tower, and then for a second and third time outside her cell. Her words from two days ago echoed in his head, telling him that the next move in their…whatever this was….was his move to make. It made perfect sense that he go out there and talk to her now. Perhaps for once they could actually make it ten minutes without interruption.

But even as he started coming around to the idea, doubt lingered. He had given her such a hard time at The BigSpot, and then again when he made her come shooting with him. Then there was her confession that she had lied to him. That conversation was one he'd rather hadn't occurred. She had told him everything, admitting that she had killed two other people than she originally told him. This admission was not without impact, even though he had told her it didn't change anything. He knew so much more about what she had done to survive, being forced to offer sex when her group was threatened. He doubted that she was the first woman who had been forced to offer her body. Sexual assault must be rampant these days, perpetrators no longer fearing the consequences.

The things she had told him didn't change the way he thought about her. While the knowledge of what she had been through appalled him, he didn't look at her with shame, and nor did it alter his attraction to her. However, it did serve to caution him. She was attracted to him…but was it for the right reasons? Were her advances on him genuine, or did she feel like they were necessary in order to secure her place within the group? Was this all some kind of strategy for self-preservation?

That night during their brief dinner, she had accidentally kicked his leg under the table, and the attraction he felt rose again. His racing heart reminded him that what he had learnt that day, that despite changing some things, still had no bearing on his attraction to her, on how much he wanted her. Her cheeks were pink as she apologised, embarrassed that she had kicked him. Perhaps like he, she too was uncertain about where they stood with one another now…worried about what the other was thinking. Seeing the colour rising in her cheeks, Rick couldn't help the smile that crossed his face, nor the way his stomach flipped when she returned this smile.

He felt emboldened. Maybe he shouldn't have started what he did, but his hand drifted beneath the table without him thinking about it. A part of him was worried that after everything she had told him she might shy away from his tough…but she hadn't shied away when they kissed the other night, and she didn't shy away that night either. In fact, she seemed to be making herself very clear. Understanding what his look meant, she moved her legs closer and pressed the side of her knee against his, a clear indication. That, and her tentative smile, was all the permission Rick needed to reach out underneath the table and touch her.

Falling back on his previous worry, that her attraction to him was fuelled by self-preservation, Rick knew he needed to find out more. He knew he wanted her, but he couldn't let himself pursue her if she didn't genuinely return his attraction. He didn't want anything from her she wasn't willing to share for the right reasons, she deserved that much. Glancing back at the door, he wondered how he should go about this. If he was going to make a move on her, find out what she was really thinking, he couldn't be too blatant about it. Obvious flirting was more Aidan's style. Thinking about this, Rick knew he could be forthright…he could make his desires as clear as day if he wasn't nervous as hell.

Knowing what he needed, he shone his flashlight around the common room, seeking out the bottle of wine left over from dinner. Worried that the cut on his hand might be infected with Walker blood, Aidan had been determined to finish the last of the case, but in the end had only managed to take a full glass from the very last bottle. This suited Rick just fine. Their supplies were all packed in the trucks ready for departure, but there were just enough utensils and food left out to cater breakfast. Strategically choosing the two largest mugs he could find, Rick filled them with wine, taking a large sip from his own before topping it up again. He was being stupid, he knew that. He had never needed alcohol to talk to women before. Not through high school or college, not when he had met Lori. But tonight?

Tonight he definitely needed a little liquid courage.


	19. Chapter 19

Carrying the two mugs of wine, Rick was careful not to spill them as he walked, knowing he had topped them up a little more than the social norm. Juggling the mugs he clumsily spilt a little wine as he closed the door to C Block, feeling the smooth liquid dripping over his fingers. Frustrated and nervous, he put the mugs down onto one of the picnic tables before hurriedly wiping his hands, Carrie turning around and looking at him through the darkness. Probably frowning, she craned her neck to see what he was doing.

"That's not what I think it is, is it?" she called out suspiciously.

He didn't immediately answer, letting the silence linger as he resumed his approach. Each footstep he took echoed through the silent courtyard, and he hoped that whoever was on watch wouldn't try to listen in. If the wind was right and the Walkers on the fence were quiet, a person on watch could be privy to an array of private conversations held among those in the courtyard. Thinking about what might be overheard that night, Rick tried not to feel nervous, knowing that he wasn't doing anything he hadn't done before. Besides, Carrie had seen him now…there was no going back.

"I told you, tea is bad for you," he told her, taking a seat beside her on the prison bleachers. Being forward, he sat closer to her than a friend would. "Red wine on the other hand, is not."

She chuckled at this, putting her tea aside and taking the mug offered to her. "Oh?" she enquired, raising it to her face and inhaling the aroma. "What's so good about it?"

"Antioxidants."

Shaking her head, she smiled at him slowly. "You're a very bad influence on me, Rick."

"I seem to recall you're the one who got me trashed the other night." He raised his mug to make a toast. "To Alexandria."

"To Alexandria," she echoed, touching her mug to his as she looked him in the eye.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Rick not entirely sure of what to do. He couldn't just lean in and kiss her straight away…could he? Trying to find the confidence that had once gained Lori's interest in him, he thought back to earlier that night during dinner, remembering the bold way in which he touched her leg beneath the table. There was no denying what the two of them were doing, and yet acknowledging it out loud or doing it without the shroud of secrecy felt awkward and clumsy.

"It's good that we talked today," he began, floundering for something to say.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm glad you could be honest with me," he said next, trying to gauge her reaction. Yet even as he began, he wondered what the hell he was doing. "Some of the things you said…it's like you took the words straight out of my mouth."

Carrie paused, her mug halfway to her lips. "How so?"

Ever since their discussion that afternoon Rick had been dwelling on some of the things she had said, remembering a time when he had felt or said the same way. The knowledge of the awful things that had happened to her only touched the surface of who she was, of her experiences and understanding of the new world. Regardless of his intentions to come outside and make a move on her, he found himself taking an entirely different direction.

"When you said you do what you have to, that you killed people so that you could survive….I say that all the time."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

He shrugged, still not entirely sure. "It means you're surviving on your own merit. And you're going to keep on surviving."

Raising her free hand, she fiddled with the ends of her hair, tugging and twisting at them. She was thinking deeply about something, her expression torn. "I know I did what I had to do…but I don't want it to become normal. I don't want that to be my life."

Surprised by what she said, Rick let out a short laugh.

"What?" she questioned in surprise.

Rock sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "Like I said…you're taking the words straight out of my mouth. I used to think that way."

"Not any more?" she frowned.

"No. Not any more."

A short pause came to pass, Carrie looking at him from the corner of her eye as she pondered what he had said. "So killing people gets easier. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," he said frankly.

There was another short pause, and he could tell she was taken aback. "I expected you to say no."

"Would you feel better if I lied?"

"A little."

"Sorry," he apologised sincerely. "I wish it wasn't true, but it is."

Carrie went quiet now, his words sinking in. He observed her critically, seeing the parallels between the two of them. Where she was now, mentally at least, was where he was at the start of the outbreak, only a year and a half ago. The notion that killing people needed to become like second nature had been difficult to comprehend, especially after having Shane trying to force the understanding on him. Though he had gunned down those two men in the bar, it took Shane's blood on his hands to realise what he needed to do for his family. Realisation had come upon him slowly…the acceptance came even slower.

"I don't meant to upset you," he began gently, not wanting to force this on her. "But it's the truth."

Carrie just nodded. Her thumb traced the handle of her mug and for a moment it looked as though she was going to say something. She seemed to stop herself though, and she restlessly pushed her hair behind her shoulder. He had seen her doing that during their conversation that afternoon, and he knew she did it whenever she was uncomfortable, that her hands fidgeted automatically. Taking a long drink of her wine, she shivered against the cold and readjusted Maggie's jacket around her shoulders. Looking at her, he recognised the uncertainty in her expression, the internal conflict that was raging inside her. She had to have some understanding of what he was saying…there was no way she had come this far without it.

"Looking at you, Carrie…it's like looking in a mirror," he confided. Though he had no idea where these words were coming from, he found himself suddenly bearing all, trusting her to hear what he had to say. "Except the reflection is eighteen months old."

This got her attention. She looked up at him now, her features pinched in a frown. "What do you see?"

He held her gaze, thinking carefully. He knew what he wanted to say to her, but to articulate it properly was difficult. "I know some of the things you've seen…some of the things you've done. But you're still coming to realise what the world really is."

"What makes you think I haven't already realised?" she challenged, sitting up a little straighter.

"The fact that you still think killing doesn't get easier." Looking her in the eye, he continued. "It has to. You won't survive if it doesn't."

There was silence again, punctuated only by the sound of her fingernails tapping her mug. Rick knew he had blown his chance at making a move, and felt incredibly frustrated. How long did that take? Two minutes? Furious with himself, he let the silence stretch on. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about Carrie that made it easier to talk to her, even if that meant his mouth got away from him. For the first time, he felt like he wanted to talk to someone. Before this, Herschel had been his confidante, Rick seeking him out to voice his fears, trusting him. But since his death, a pang of loneliness lingered every time he found himself going to say Herschel's name, forgetting for a moment that his mentor was gone. With Carrie, he felt the same ease. He'd known her a week now, but already it was like she had always been a part of his group, like she'd been there all along. The more he talked to her, one on one like now, the more he wanted to tell her about the things that had happened. It was irrational…she hadn't been there, none of it was relevant to her…and yet he wanted to tell her.

"Does it scare you?" Carrie asked him, thankfully breaking the silence. "The fact that killing people is easy now?"

He gave her question careful consideration…after everything that's happened in the last eighteen months, he tended to think that very little scared him. Her question was thought provoking. "It did…but I've come to accept it."

"Accept what?" she muttered bitterly. "That we just kill people now? That it's nothing?"

"I've accepted that it's…a necessary part of me," he said slowly, having never voiced that understanding out loud.

For a moment it looked like she didn't want to hear this, that she was going to get up and leave. Her shoulders were tense, her jaw set in a hard line. "That simple, huh? Just kill out of necessity?"

"I wouldn't kill someone if it wasn't necessary," he said quietly.

There was an awkward pause, Carrie's body language appearing highly uncomfortable. Beginning to echo her, he wondered how much worse he was making this conversation, if he was subconsciously trying to sabotage her opinion of him. Looking across the courtyard, he felt at a loss for how to properly explain, seeking any opportunity to undo what he had told her. He knew what he wanted to say, the message he was trying to communicate, but blurting it out to her wouldn't help. Remembering Shane, he understood in hindsight that his angry ranting and challenges was in fact just him trying to explain himself, to make Rick understand. Shane had never been good with words, whereas Rick was. While Shane was a man of abrupt and unapologetic action, Rick was patient, his moves and choices measured and well considered…at least they had been back then.

"It took a long time for me to understand. Shane understood right from the beginning, and that scared me," he admitted openly.

"He understood what?"

"That killing other people was going to be necessary. Shane saw the outbreak from the very start, before they even understood what it was…he was in uniform, gunning down people he knew. He had time to adjust, to come around to the new world and start understanding…by the time I caught up with him, I was on the back foot already."

"I thought you said he was causing problems," Carrie interrupted. "That he was harassing your wife."

"He was. Aside from what happened with Lori, Shane's problem was that he didn't know when the shut up," he laughed bitterly, not knowing how else to put it. "I get it now…everything he said was true, but he wasn't saying it in a way that the rest of us could understand. He was trying to force the understanding on me…but I had to figure it out for myself, the hard way."

"That's where I'm at?" she questioned skeptically, remembering what he had said a minute earlier. "I'm going to figure it out the hard way?"

Rick hesitated, hoping he didn't cross a line with what he said next. "Given what you told me today, I'd say you've already figured it out the hard way."

She tensed at this and looked away, and he could hear her holding her breath for a long moment. "If I've already figured it out, then what are you trying to tell me?"

"You've figured it out, sure…doesn't mean you've accepted it."

"I won't," she said firmly, and he could tell she truly believed it. "I won't accept that killing people is easy."

Pausing, Rick decided against arguing this point, knowing it was something she had to learn in her own time. Lecturing her wouldn't make that acceptance come any faster, he knew that first hand. So he resisted the need to keep pressing the subject, suspecting it would only make their conversation sour even more. Yet, as the silence stretched on and he wondered why on earth he had ruined the potential for a pleasant conversation, Rick knew he needed to tell her this. The parallels he found between the two of them couldn't be ignored, and he felt obligated to prepare her for what was to come.

"There are two sides in each of use," he continued, still trying to articulate the understanding he had reached months ago. "The rules of humanity have changed now. Some people have always been capable of taking drastic measures, even when it wasn't a case of survival at any cost. Others like you and me…we have to adapt to keep up…to survive."

Though she nodded, Rick sensed her skepticism. "We have two sides? Fine," she said shortly, challenging him. "Which is you? Jekyll or Hyde?"

He gave a short laugh, amused by the simplicity of her question. "On a good day? A bit of both…they're not mutually exclusive."

"They are for me," she argued, pressing at his argument.

"Maybe they are now…but they won't always be. This other side…it's a brutality that you need. It lets you do what you have to do, and then get on with your life."

Still skeptical, Carrie looked at him in exasperation. "You're not brutal."

"When I need to be, I am."

"I don't see that."

"Of course you don't," he agreed. "I don't need it right now…but I've done things I wouldn't have dreamt of doing before all this."

She raised an eyebrow at this. "Maybe these two sides aren't such a good thing then."

"I never said it was good. I said it was necessary. It's kept both my children alive, the whole group. It will keep you alive too…at least until you accept your own side of yourself."

With no valid argument coming to mind, Carrie didn't immediately respond. She was clutching her mug of wine tightly, her knuckles white with tension. Apprehensively waiting for her to say something, Rick took a drink of his wine.

"How long did it take?" she finally asked. "To accept that killing people would be easy for you to do?"

Carefully considering his answer, Rick sighed and sipped at his wine again. "I'd known for a while that I could do whatever was necessary…I told you about what nearly happened to Carl?"

"Yes…he was almost raped?"

"Only almost," he said lowly, remembering that night in excruciating detail. He held back now, knowing he couldn't tell her about what he had done…how far he had gone. Christ, he could still taste the blood in his mouth, could still feel the slippery knife he plunged into that mongrel's stomach over and over. "The next morning, after what I did…that's when I accepted that I needed brutality."

"Did that make it easier?" she questioned, her tone still skeptical. She was challenging what he told her, still not ready to understand.

"In a way. It became easier to kill people, but harder to trust them…" he trailed off now, bitterly thinking of the cop in Atlanta. "I killed one man just because he pissed me off…because he was making things difficult."

"I thought you were the good guy," she said boldly, her brow pinched into a frown. "I thought you were the guy who helps random strangers on the side of the road."

Her tone was hurtful, and he remembered the things Shane used to say, the frequent reminders that he couldn't be the good guy and expect to live. "I am…but I can't be all the time. I've done bad things just like everyone else. I'd do them again if I needed to."

"Even killing a man who was pissing you off?"

"It was necessary," he said with absolute certainty, thinking of Bob Lampson. "I know now that I over reacted, that I let him push my buttons…but he was compromising what we were trying to do. Killing him helped save Carol. It should have saved Beth too."

"Beth is Maggie's sister?" she clarified. "She died, right?"

He nodded, once again feeling the sting of grief that accompanied any thought of her. "She and Carol were being held in Atlanta, these people wouldn't let them go. We came for them, and I knew how I wanted to handle the situation. But Daryl and the others talked me out of it, they wanted to try something else…something without blood shed."

"You didn't want that?"

Pausing, he considered this question. "I wanted Carol and Beth alive, and I didn't trust these people. Sometimes I still think that if I'd insisted on my way, Beth might still be alive."

"Or you might all be dead."

He nodded, knowing she was right. "I still regret that day…We tried to do the right thing, and it still went wrong."

"How?"

"Beth," he stated simply, the words flowing from his tongue with ease. "She caused her own death. That wasn't on anyone but her. But I still wonder how it might have played out if we handled the situation my way."

"With brutality?"

"Yes. We were trying to reason with a person who didn't want to listen…the same thing happened here when the prison was attacked. Rather than fight back, I tried to talk them down."

"That sounds like the right thing to do."

He shook his head, looking at her imperatively. "It wasn't. Some people don't want to be reasoned with."

There was a short pause in which she slowly nodded, her shoulders drooping a little as she looked into her lap. "I know."

Silence fell now, Carrie looking into her hands as everything he had told her sunk in. Hoping she would say something else, Rick worried he had said too much, that he had extended his honesty too far. Holding his breath nervously, he wished he could tell what she was thinking. He knew how he saw the brutality in himself as being a necessary part of survival, but she didn't yet…was she afraid of him now? The way she sat there in silence sure seemed to indicate as such.

"I'm sorry," he started softly, hating the way she wouldn't look at him. "I'm not normally this talkative."

"It must be the wine," she remarked quietly. At this, she too sought solace in the alcohol, swallowing it gratefully.

"No. It's you."

He stated this as fact, the words coming out of his mouth before he thought about them. Looking around at him now, she seemed to offer him a small smile, her shoulders relaxing a moment later. Sitting up straight, she looked at him hard, her expression one of resolution.

"I believe what you're saying," she told him honestly. "I do. But I'm not there yet. I don't understand it."

"You will in your own time…I'm not going to push you there."

"Then why this talk?"

Knowing he hadn't come out here to talk about brutality, Rick hesitated. "I guess I just want to prepare you for it," he pondered out loud. "I wish someone had prepared me."

"Didn't Shane?"

Rick actually laughed at this, shaking his head negatively. "No…he was too busy pushing my buttons to care about helping me."

As though she genuinely understood, Carrie slowly nodded her head. "It's hard leading a group, isn't it?" she remarked softly, staring across the empty courtyard.

"Yes, it is."

She gave a long sigh, sounding as though she were releasing a life time of worries. "The hardest part of leading my group, was that I did all the protecting. There was no one to protect me when I needed it." She looked at him now, her expression softening. "Doesn't seem like you have that problem."

"No," he agreed. "I don't."

"If something happened to you…your people would help. They'd do anything."

"Yes."

"You're lucky," she commented, her tone saddened. "My group wouldn't do that for me."

"Sounds like you were leading the wrong type of group."

The comment seemed to take her by surprise, and she looked at him with a strange expression. "You might just know me better than I know myself," she said. "What type of group is yours?"

"A family."

Nodding in agreement, Carrie took a long drink of her wine and finished it. He could feel her sadness, her offhand comment about her group not protecting her holding more weight than she realised. Though he and the others had been through hell, he had always known he could depend on them when things turned to shit. It must have been incredibly lonely for her to be the leader of her group, comprising her own safety and well being to protect them, all the while knowing they wouldn't do the same for her.

Emboldened, he tentatively placed his hand over hers, feeling how cold her skin was. "You don't have to worry about things like that anymore."

"Things like what?"

"Like worrying that no one has your back. You're one of us now."

She seemed taken aback by this, as though she hadn't realised. "Thanks," she said softly. Moving her hand, she turned it over and grasped his properly. Running her finger tips up his palm, she slid her fingers between his and gently squeezed, the simple motions making his heart pound. "Are you always this quick to let people in?"

Her question, though innocent on face value, held double meaning for him. When he decided that a new comer was one of them, the decision was generally based on a gut instinct that didn't take long to develop. But as for letting people in…he debated whether he was reading too much into her question, though he knew the answer regardless. He wasn't quick to let people in…but did that mean he had let her in?

"Yes, and no," he answered cryptically. He looked away, the next words he spoke being more forthright than he expected. "I feel like I've known you more than a week."

She smiled at him in understanding. "I know what you mean."

The moment lingered in the air, Rick's heart beginning to pound from the innocent touch of their hands. Everything he had told her should have frightened her. And yet she didn't believe him…not really, anyway. With a great sigh, he looked across the courtyard and avoided her gaze.

"I came out here thinking I'd make that move on you," he confessed in embarrassment.

Snorting, Carrie gripped his hand tightly. "Well done, Mr Suave."

"Thanks…I guess the moment's passed now."

"Not necessarily," she said after a short pause, her voice tinged with hope.

Surprised by her comment, he looked at her with a frown. Surely he had misheard. She may not believe everything he had told her about himself, about the brutality that had kept his family alive, but surely she must have doubts. He had told her about killing that cop in Atlanta, how it had been unjustified. But to his disbelief, Carrie seemed not to care. As though nothing had been said at all, she was leaning closer to him, her thumb stroking the back of his hand.

"Carrie," he began apprehensively, thinking back to the other reason he had wanted to talk to her. The things she had told him about what she had to do, the deal she negotiated with the men who tried to hurt her group…was she doing that again? "This…you and me. It's not because you think you have to, right?"

With a slight frown, she leant back from him. "No…I want to."

"Even after everything I just said?"

"Rick," she started, taking her hand out of his. She placed it on his knee now, squeezing firmly. Unable to help himself, his eyes darted down to look, his breathing hitching a little. "I told you. I don't see that in you."

"You will," he warned.

With an exasperated sigh, Carrie closed her eyes for a moment. "You talk too much," she said, sounding impatient. She squeezed his knee again and shifted her body closer, making it clear what she was waiting for him to do.

Knowing he had never been accused of talking too much, Rick raised his hand and brushed her hair off her face, his fingers lingering until he felt her respond. He thought of that afternoon when he had been teaching her to shoot, remembering a moment not dissimilar to this. Having desired her kiss, he had leant down to take it from her, only to be interrupted by Aidan…the longing he felt for her had briefly dissipated, only to come back in full force. Had it only been yesterday that he realised how much he wanted her? It felt like longer. Needing to remedy the lingering ache, he cradled her head and made to kiss her. Wanting to recapture the hunger he had felt the other night, he parted his lips as their eyes flickered shut.

They were interrupted just like earlier, Rick sighing in frustration as the sound of footsteps echoed around the courtyard. Listening for only a second, he knew it was Daryl…there was no mistaking that swagger. He hesitated a mere whisper away from Carrie's lips, so close he could feel her soft breaths against his own. Feeling cheated, he thought about just kissing her anyway, ignoring their audience and just going for it…but he pulled away instead. Carrie didn't bother hiding her disappointment, muttering under her breath as he removed his hand from her hair. He laughed at her softly, secretly pleased by how frustrated she was.

"Oh come on," was her whispered plea. "He already saw us the other night."

Clenching his jaw, Rick straightened up and turned away from her, clenching his hands into a fist as she removed hers from his knee. Increasingly pissed off by their interruptions, he gave serious consideration to taking her by the hand and leading her into the tombs, to locking themselves in the laundry room where they could go undisturbed. God knows a certain part of Rick wanted that very much, even as his head told him to stand down, to take a breath and mull things over.

"I saw the wine out," Daryl commented gruffly, his boots echoing as he sauntered towards them. "You ain't trashed again, are yah?"

"Not tonight," Rick promised, looking at Carrie as he said this. There was no point in pretending Daryl didn't know what was going on. He knew of Rick's attraction to her, and he had seen them the other night in the guard tower. He could still kiss her…he could do it right now.

"Carl's in your cell," Daryl informed him, lighting his cigarette as he walked past. "Reckoned he was cold."

Having already started to lean towards Carrie again, Rick's heart fell. Any thoughts of kissing her now, of the two of them sneaking off together to maybe fool around, faded completely. He didn't need Daryl to clarify what he had said about Carl…he knew what he meant. Turning away from Carrie yet again, he gave her an apologetic glance. Still seated side by side, they looked at each other in amused silence, hardly believing what had happened. This was the third time they had been interrupted from a kiss, and the second time by Daryl. When were they going to catch a break?

"Carrie, I err…" he started awkwardly, hoping she didn't think he was trying to blow her off. "I have to go."

"Carl?"

He nodded. "Yeah…he's not cold."

"It's okay," she said, hearing the apology in his voice. She sighed softly, expressing her disappointment. "You should go to him."

Hearing the door to the guard tower open and close, Rick and Carrie collected their mugs and headed back for C Block. Walking a little closer to each other than normal, Rick relished every bump and brush against her, not knowing when such opportunities would come up again. He hardly took his eyes off her as they walked, taking every available moment to drink her in, to take anything of her that he could. Tomorrow morning they would be back on the road, and there would be almost zero opportunities to find privacy. Carl would be by his side almost every minute.

Entering C Block, they walked quietly, knowing how the smallest of sounds echoed, more so now that it was so bare. Putting their used mugs into the plastic tub to be washed in the morning, Carrie gave him a lingering smile before turning towards the cells. At the last minute Rick grabbed her hand, quietly pulling her back to him. Without thinking, he leant over and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, restraining himself as much as possible. He lingered there for a moment, enjoying the tactile feel of her cheek beneath his lips. Soft breaths tickled the shell of his ear, and he knew she was waiting for more.

"Does that count as my move?" he asked as he pulled back.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "No," she whispered, her voice echoing a little. She shook her head at him impatiently. "No…when you make your move, it should be more than a kiss on the cheek."

Rising to her challenge, he found his courage and moved to kiss her properly, to take advantage of their last moment of privacy. Despite his best intentions, the second he moved towards her they heard the door to C Block begin to open, someone from the outside returning. Retracting his hands, which had been reaching for her, Rick took a large step back away from Carrie, unsure of who it was who would be interrupting them this time. As though the universe were mocking him again, it was Aidan who was returning from watch, blowing his hot breath into his hands to warm them up.

"Hey," he greeted Carrie, his voice louder than Rick would have liked. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Aidan gave he a charismatic smile, which she could see even in the dimly lit common room.

Rick spoke up before either of them, reminding Aidan knew he was there. "Hey."

"Hey," Aidan muttered again.

There was a long and awkward moment, the three of them standing in silence as they looked at one another. Given how he had insisted Aidan wasn't stepping in on he and Carrie, Rick couldn't blame him for continuing to try and win her affections…but that didn't mean it wasn't grating on his nerves.

"Carrie…" Aidan began. "I'm heading to the bathrooms if you need an escort."

Rick had to restrain himself from openly laughing, amused by the thought that Carrie might need an escort anywhere.

"No, thanks," she said politely. "I'm good."

"Okay then," Aidan nodded, swinging his hands as the awkwardness continued. "Well, I'll just…good night."

Having never been more pleased to see the back of him, Rick smiled and bade him goodnight, his polite expression souring the moment Aidan turned. He and Carrie stood in silence as Aidan disappeared into the tombs, the beam from his flashlight quickly disappearing.

"He's sweet on you," Rick commented quietly, his right thumb looped through his duty belt.

"I know. You jealous?"

Rick hesitated before answering, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall. "A little."

"Intimidated?"

"Of him?" he scoffed, looking at her in exasperation. "Give me a little credit."

Echoing his laugh, Carrie took a few steps towards the cell block, putting an end to their midnight conversation. "Maybe you could, you know…try again some time."

Understanding what she meant, that it was still his turn to make a move, Rick nodded. "I'll try," he promised, knowing that if he could restrain Aidan and Daryl from interrupting them, then maybe he would succeed.

Watching in longing as Carrie headed into the cell block, looking at him over her shoulder before she disappeared, Rick lingered in the common room. Breathing a long sigh, he released the tension that had been built up in the last short while, unable to believe what had just happened between them. Allowing himself a few moments of unrestrained elation, his heart still pounding while his skin still burned hot where she had been holding his hand. He felt rather confused about their entire conversation, wondering how they had gone from talking about the darker sides of humanity to almost kissing. Groaning to himself, he took a few deep breaths before heading into the cell block, knowing Carl was waiting for him. Pausing only to make sure Carrie had made it to her cell, he silently slipped into his own.

Rick listened to Carl's soft breathing as he removed his duty belt, gently laying it down on the bare chest of drawers. He knew this routine well, there having been many nights in the prison in which he returned to his cell after rounds to find his son sleeping in his bunk. After the initial drama with the Governor and Woodbury had settled down, the trauma they had all been through began to weigh down upon them, on Carl in particular. It hadn't been an easy few months for the teenager, especially with the influx of strangers that were suddenly depending on the Grimes group.

If it hadn't been for Herschel's guidance, Rick was sure that he and his son would have never grown as close as they did, despite their frequent differences of opinion. Rick's intervention in Carl's developing way of life had proved to be both a blessing and a burden, one that saw many unexpected occurrences. When Rick had taken Carl's gun and locked it in a tool box along with his own, the teenager's eruption of anger had been the subject of whispered gossip for days. Rick had been stunned by Carl's reaction, his son suddenly exploding and directing months of pent up anger and resentment straight at him.

While Carl yelled and screamed at him, Rick remained in a shocked silence that allowed his son to get everything off his chest. He didn't understand what Rick was trying to do for him. How could he, when the problem wasn't him, but what Rick had unintentionally taught him to be? Carl must have thought he was being punished for killing that boy, not realising that by trading his gun for a shovel, Rick was trying to save him, to reverse the damage he himself had done to his child.

For a whole week Rick received the cold shoulder from his son, even as they worked side by side planting pulling weeds and turning the earth. Their only buffer was Herschel's almost constant company in the gardens, matched only by Beth and Judith elsewhere. The awful silence and hateful glares affected Rick more than he let on, not knowing how much of it was genuine and how much was a grudge. Carl even went as far as to start moving his belongings to a cell far away from Rick, but a few sharp words from Daryl sent him back.

As Rick knew he eventually would, Carl began to come around. The long awaited day when Daryl caught a feral pig arrived, and Rick and Carl made fools of themselves trying to wrangle it into the newly built pen. It was impossible to be infuriated with someone who wore more than mud than clothing, and Rick made sure to take advantage of this. Their laughter seemed to break the ice between the two of them, Carl unable to help himself as they and the others chased Violet around the lower field. His grudge broken, Carl slowly began to settle in to the new way of life that Rick was trying to provide for him. But as it always did, the trauma of what they had been through was a cloud above all their heads, Carl's too.

Lori's absence was particularly difficult for Carl to process. It was a constant weight on both their chests, a shadow they couldn't quite shake. Rick dealt with his grief by focusing his time on the gardens and being with his children, while Carl mostly bundled it inside. Though Rick wanted to help him, to be the source of comfort a father should have been, Carl rejected his every advance. Rick wasn't even entirely sure of what to do in the first place…he hadn't been there for Carl in the days after Lori's death, and he feared that he had left it too long.

Eventually though, Carl couldn't seem to hold back any longer. At only four months old, Judith frequently awoke throughout the night, needing to be fed and comforted until she went back to sleep. Never letting Beth get out of her warm bed at night, Rick tended to Judith's needs, enjoying the time spent alone with the daughter he never expected. It was during one such night, over a month after starting the gardens and taking Carl's gun away, that his son did the unexpected.

The others being awakened by Judith's cries was not unusual, with even the softest of whimpers echoing around the cell block. This particular night when Carl had joined him in tending to Judith, he had returned not to his own bunk, but to Rick's. Making himself comfortable, he pulled the blankets over himself and curled up facing the wall. At first Rick had been confused, not understanding what was going on. Had Carl forgotten the way to his own cell which was right next door? Did he expect Rick to stay up all night, or to take the top bunk?

Despite his confusion, he could see that Carl had only taken half the bed and half the pillow, leaving a space that was clearly meant for his father to occupy. When Judith was sleeping in her crib once again, Rick too had returned to bed. Trying not to rouse him, he gently laid down beside his son, only slightly annoyed that he couldn't get comfortable in the small space.

Unbeknownst to Rick, Carl was still awake, torn between the desire to seek maturity, and the need to find comfort from his grief. From that night on, the two of them fell into a comfortable routine in which Carl would join Rick in his cell, usually after he had completed his rounds or had been awoken by Judith. It wasn't every night, just on occasion, but it seemed to provide Carl with what he needed. They never spoke about it, Rick cautionary to anything that might embarrass Carl enough to stop. He wanted his son to come to him for comfort, to be a source of solace, even if it was never acknowledged out loud. Any time someone had questioned where Carl was, or why he was asleep in Rick's cell, Carl simply told them he was cold. Anyone who noticed knew him well enough knew not to comment that it was summer time.

"Hey," Carl greeted him through the darkness. "Rounds?"

"Yeah," he nodded. No longer needing to be silent, he sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. His head feeling pleasantly light from the mug of wine, he lay down gratefully. The only thing that stopped him completely collapsing was the thought of Carl's injured leg which he ought not to jostle. "Are you comfortable?" he enquired, turning onto his side. Carl's worst habit during these nights was allowing Rick to get comfortable and then moving in his sleep. It was hard to decide who was worse, Carl or Judith.

"Ah huh," Carl nodded, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. "I was cold, sorry." As he spoke, he wriggled around and then pressed his cold feet against Rick's ankle.

Retaliating, Rick slung his arm around Carl's side and held him tightly. He used to let Rick hold him like this, especially during their early days on the run after losing the farm. Their group generally spent the nights huddled together to escape the winter, Carl always sleeping in between his parents who liked to hold him close. At twelve or thirteen years old, such an embrace was acceptable, particularly when one needed the warmth. As he got older though, Carl seemed to grow out of it, resisting the embrace even though he continued slipping into Rick's cell. Tonight, however, he didn't protest. He dug his cold toes beneath Rick's legs, but he accepted the embrace.

"You're just like your mom," Rick scolded him. "She used to do that to me all the time."

Carl laughed softly, always enjoying it when Rick told him he was behaving like his late mother. Content and comfortable, Rick closed his eyes and tried to sleep, knowing they had an earlier than normal start tomorrow morning. Their alarm clocks would rouse them just before sunrise, and in the darkness of the prison they would eat and pile into the cars. The plan was to depart the prison the moment there was enough light to see by, taking advantage of every minute. But as usual, Rick's plan to go straight to sleep was thwarted by one of his pesky children.

"Dad," Carl began, his voice sounding tentative. "Do you still love Mom?"

Feeling his arm around Carl tense, Rick hesitated, feeling his heart begin racing. That question had come out of nowhere, and it sent him into a silent but troubled panic. Had Carl noticed what was going on with Carrie? Had someone told him…what if he'd seen them?

"Why would you ask that?"

Sighing, Carl seemed to apologise without words. "It's just that…I know Carol doesn't love her husband anymore. So I was just wondering…"

"Wondering if that's how it works?"

"Yeah."

Pausing, Rick echoed Carl's sigh. "Of course I love Mom," he said emphatically. "Why would you doubt that?"

Carl shrugged, prompting Rick to ask him again. "I don't know…"

He could have let their conversation end then. There was no question that Rick wanted to go to sleep, both physically and mentally exhausted by the previous day, by their entire supply run thus far. But Carl's question lingered. The fact that he questioned whether or not Rick still loved Lori was unsettling, making him certain there was something else going on. But if Carl knew anything about Rick's attraction to Carrie, he wasn't letting on…if he knew, Rick had no doubt that he'd be getting a little more trouble than a random question in the middle of the night.

"You just seemed to get over it really quick," Carl continued without further prompt. "You know, like Carol did."

Not answering at first, Rick tried to articulate concepts that were greater than words. How could he explain to a fourteen year old what it meant to lose your wife?

"I did," he admitted plainly. "Not because I didn't care. I had to."

"Because of me and Judith?"

"Yes." With a deep sigh, he fumbled for a moment and took Carl's hand in his, renewing the comfort of his arm around his middle.

"Oh."

Waiting in silence, Rick knew Carl wasn't finished. He could sense the words on the tip of his tongue, and waited patiently. When Carl finally spoke, Rick was halfway asleep, having thought he had finished after all.

"Do you think you'll ever get married again?"

Rick clenched his jaw. "That's an odd question."

"Not really." There was a long pause now, and though Rick knew his son was waiting for an answer, he postponed as long as he could. "Dad?"

"I don't know if I'd get married again…it doesn't really have the same meaning it used to."

"Yes it does," Carl argued. "What about Glenn and Maggie?"

Not knowing what to say, Rick answered with a question of his own. "What would you think if I got married again?"

Rick could feel tension radiating from Carl, and he knew that he was choosing his words very carefully. "I don't really think you need to get married again. We don't need you to."

"We?"

"Me and Judith…"

"Why would you and Judith need me to get married?"

Carl raised his head a little, looking over his shoulder as though the answer was obvious. "You know…so that Judith has a Mom."

"Right," he muttered, not knowing what to make of this.

"She's got Carol…and Maggie too. She's got plenty of Moms."

"Right," he muttered again. "I'll take that under advisement."

Fortunately Carl didn't say anything else, apparently satisfied with the conversation. Minutes later he was asleep in Rick's embrace, his body relaxed with slow, deep breaths. Rick on the other hand, despite his exhaustion, lay wide awake, pondering everything Carl had just said. An uncomfortable weight settled in the pit of his stomach. Keeping his attraction to Carrie a secret hadn't felt like deception until now, rather just an adult keeping his private life to himself. But now the knowledge of how Carl felt about Rick potentially moving on one day was not without impact. He had all but said it outright…the idea of Rick being with someone else was not acceptable to him.

Carl had already been harbouring doubts over Rick's love for Lori, likely due to the way he had shielded him from the weight of his grief. But did that mean that he could never move on? That he could never fall in love again, or never receive love? Until he had met Carrie, Rick hadn't even entertained the notion of being attracted to someone, let alone falling in love with them. That wasn't what was happening with Carrie…but if did eventuate with someone in the future, how would Carl feel about it?

Haunted by a two minute conversation, Rick did not fall asleep easily.

A/N Sorry about the long delay. I've literally moved to the other side of the world, and time got away from me faster than I expected it to. Next chapter will be up in the next few days or so.


	20. Chapter 20

Gentle rain fell over the small town where the group had stopped to find gas, the change in weather proving to be a nuisance. Rain has always been both a blessing and a curse for Carrie, particularly during the four months spent on the road by herself. Rain meant that while there would be water available to drink, or most often sucked off leaves or in muddy puddles, the blood and gore that covered her body would slowly wash away. It was her only form of protection, the stench of the rotting flesh enabling her to blend in and go undetected by the Walkers, and rainfall typically meant she had to start all over again.

Today, rainfall meant the potential of spoiling the gas they were pumping, and so the entire process was longer and more drawn out than it should have been. Keeping the underground gas tank covered with plastic sheeting, Carrie endured her turn at working the pump, her muscles straining with the exertion. It had been some time since she had worked her body like this, especially after having let it languish with malnutrition for four months. Rubbing her sore arms, Carrie was grateful when Aidan offered to swap places, giving her a well deserved rest. She didn't mind that his offer was really more of attempt to win her affections…she'd take any benefit she could.

They had spent the previous night back in the town of Silverpine, resuming their lodgings in the abandoned motel they had occupied during their journey south. Their first night after departing the prison, the group was less reluctant to make camp on the side of the road given the nights they had slept in the comfort of the prison. They had departed early that morning, but rather than take the same route back to Alexandria, they diverted their path a little further north-east, taking them closer to the coast. With vehicles that would be carrying a heavier load, the importance of making frequent stops for gas only grew. Though the miles travelled would be significantly longer than their journey south, it was a necessary compromise given the necessity of filling up frequently.

Making the most of their extended time there, Carrie took out the camping stove and boiled some water, knowing that everyone was cold and miserable. Distributing cups of coffee to the others, Carrie took her green tea and leant against one of the cars to watch the progress with the gas. She managed a minute or so of peaceful solitude before she was joined by Michonne, who approached her with a particular smile on her face. Since the night Michonne had pressed a bottle of wine into Carrie's hands and told her to go and talk to Rick, they'd had little opportunity to talk in privacy, though this was actually a relief on Carrie's behalf. There had been a question posed the morning after, but in the midst of their run to King County, Carrie had managed to avoid it. Though she knew Michonne was desperate for news and gossip, Carrie was glad they hadn't had much time to talk about it.

Sheathing her katana, she stood by Carrie's side as the devilish smile lingered on her face. "So, what's going on with you two," she asked boldly, not wasting time with small talk.

"With who?" she enquired, trying to keep her face impassive.

"Rick."

"I don't know what you mean."

Michonne chuckled under her breath as she looked around for the topic of their conversation. "Don't be coy. Rosita saw what was going on under the table the other night. And I see the way he's looking at you."

Glancing over at Rick, Carrie wondered if Michonne was right. With a large black rifle in his hands, he stood by Glenn and Carl as they siphoned gas from a car, keeping watch for Walkers. This was their second day on the road after departing the prison, the second day in which Rick had been avoiding her. Christ that man could be infuriating. He was hot and heavy for her one moment, his lips lingering against her cheek longer than necessary, and then politely distant the next morning. The change had taken her by surprise. She knew they wouldn't have opportunities to be alone now they were back on the road, what with Carl hovering by Rick's side most of the time, but she hadn't expected outright avoidance.

He hadn't said anything to her about the other night, about what had been discussed. She knew he expected everything he told her to scare her off him, Rick insisting that there was a brutal side of himself, one that also resided in her too. Perhaps it had been his unconscious intention to turn her off him. It hadn't worked though…she was not naive. She knew that he was just like everyone else, that below the surface lurked another depth of strength only called upon in the difficult times. What she didn't see, was that brutality in herself quite yet...of course she was capable of doing what she had to do for survival, but did that necessarily mean she had a brutal side? He had talked at great length about how while she understood how the world worked, she hadn't quite accepted her part in it. Having dwelled on this for two days now, Carrie began pondering the notion that he was right.

"What way is he looking at me?"

"Mmmm…Like you're a tall glass of water on a hot day."

Carrie cracked up laughing, unable to help herself. Everyone at the gas station turned around and looked at her, Rick included. Calming herself down very quickly, she readjusted her jacket against the cold air, wishing she had put on something warmer than her yoga pants. The cars were deceptively warm, and it was easy to forget the cold outside, despite the arrival of spring. Her cheeks pink with laughter, Carrie grinned at Michonne, not saying anything.

"Oh, so there is something going on," Michonne smiled.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it."

Shaking her head to herself, Carrie wondered what to say. She couldn't exactly deny what was going on, but that didn't mean she had to go mouthing off about it. Although having only met him a week ago, Carrie knew Rick well enough to understand he would want to be intensely private about anything going on between him and a woman who wasn't his late wife. Judging by the sudden cold shoulder she was receiving, Carl was likely the reason. Every so often, in a move that was as natural as breathing, Rick's eyes darted over to where Carl was siphoning gas, checking that he was alright. Observing him, Carrie understood that Rick was holding himself back from her because of Carl, who in the anguish of leaving the prison was constantly seeking him out.

Their departure yesterday morning had not been as smooth and as speedy as originally planned. The prison group had congregated down at their makeshift graveyard, paying their respects to people Carrie would never know. Lori, Herschel, Merle, Andrea…someone named T-Dog. Rick and Carl stayed the longest, lingering by Lori's grave even as rain began to fall, no doubt chilling them both to the bone. Although their departure was delayed, no one said a thing, patiently waiting until father and son were finished. Even Abraham, who so often gave Rick a hard time about being the last one in the cars, waited patiently, closing his eyes for a few more minutes of rest.

When Rick and Carl had finally departed, they had travelled alone together. Their first day back on the road, it was clear to everyone that Carl was struggling, desperately clinging to the notion that one day when things were better, he would return to the prison once again. Since then Carl had gravitated to his father more often than usual, even forgoing Michonne's company. She knew Carl had been brought on this supply run for him to find a sense of closure, but Carrie questioned whether he had found it. There was no doubting that the supply run hadn't been what he expected. Being shot in the leg meant he was pretty much confined the the prison, unable to assist them in doing much outside the walls. Once he had determined that it was safe, Rick had offered to drive him back to King County where they had lived, but to all of their surprise Carl had refused.

"Presently, Rick has other priorities," Carrie said cryptically, realising Michonne was waiting for a response.

"And prior?"

Smiling to herself, Carrie looked down at the ground. "I might have occupied a few of his thoughts."

Michonne gave a satisfied chuckle and shook her head. "So, he's kissed you then?"

"Yes," she admitted. In an uncharacteristic move, she suddenly giggled. "Yes."

"Good for you," Michonne praised. "So tell me…who kissed who?"

"Mich," she groaned, using the familial nick name everyone else seemed to. "No. I don't kiss and tell."

"I won't tell anyone," she said very seriously. "Not even Rosita. I know what Rick's like."

Considering the promise, Carrie gave a short nod. She trusted Michonne, knowing that she and Rick were pretty tight knit. Michonne wouldn't say or do anything that might upset Rick, Carl in particular. "Well….I went to kiss him first, but he chickened out."

"Bastard."

"I know. I wanted to sink into the floor and never come back. But then he kissed me…and then we made out in the cell block."

Her jaw gaping, Michonne looked at her in shock. "You actually made out?"

"Ah huh."

"Wow," she said, seemingly proud. "Go on…what else?"

"That's all," Carrie said incredulously.

"Oh."

"Disappointed?"

"The man needs a lay."

They giggled quietly, Carrie overwhelmed by the feeling of friendship she was developing with someone who at first had frightened her. "You know Rick pretty well, right? He's not going to be…a complete gentleman, is he?"

"What? You mean like…" Michonne began, raising her eyebrows. When she nodded, Michonne looked embarrassed. "I don't know him that well…"

Carrie sighed in annoyance. "It's just he…he's not really doing anything about it. I gave him the green light…told him the next move was his."

"Oh, big mistake…Rick works on a timeline entirely his own. He's either a hundred miles an hour, or painfully slow. If you want something from Rick, you gotta take it."

"I can't. Not with Carl. And he only lost his wife a year ago…this has got to be his move, his choice."

"Hmmm," Michonne pondered. Looking around, she checked their area before continuing. "I never knew Lori. She died a couple of days before I got to the prison. What happened between the two of them messed Rick up. Badly too."

"I heard. He told me a few things…not much though."

"Mmm," Michonne agreed, sobering a little. "You're right to take it slow, to let him make the moves."

"I figured…He doesn't need me hanging off him like some angsty teenager."

"That's very…mature."

"Thanks," she shrugged, sighing loudly. She glanced over at him again, observing as he wiped the back windscreen of the sedan, clearing some mud. "God, I just wish he'd do something already. If I have to wait much longer…"

Laughing loudly, Michonne attracted everyone's glances once again, including Rick's. Looking over, he watched the two of them with an expression that could only be described as worry…he must be wondering what was making them laugh and giggle so much.

"Well I can't help you there. You brought that on yourself."

"I know."

There was a short pause in conversation, Carrie watching as Rick continued making his way around the group. While the others pumped gas to refuel two large trucks, three cars and dozens of empty gas containers, Carl and Glenn had moved on to join Daryl. Working under the hoods of various other cars, he removed anything that could possibly be used at a later time, patiently showing Carl the various parts and explaining how they worked. As he always did, Rick watched on, departing the group only to shoot a Walker that appeared a few yards away.

"What was it like?" Michonne asked.

"What?"

"Come on," she pleaded. "Making out with Rick. What was it like?"

Bashful again, she shrugged in embarrassment. "I don't remember…we'd had a bit to drink."

"The red wine goes straight to his head," Michonne nodded.

"Yes, it does. Kissing him was…nice," she admitted, smiling as she thought back to it.

"Nice? That's all?"

"It was more than nice, but that's all I'm saying."

"Fine. So just the once then?"

"Just once…not for lack of trying though. We keep getting interrupted. First Daryl, then Aidan."

"Bastards."

"I know. I'm pretty sure Daryl saw us the first time. He hasn't said anything."

"Daryl won't," Michonne assured her. "He'll want nothing to do with drama and other people's business."

"Good to know."

"You know, Aidan's sweet on you too."

Carrie groaned. "I know. I gotta let him down easy…he reminds me of my ex-husband."

"Shouldn't that be a good thing? You married him after all."

She scoffed at this. "I also divorced him. Aidan's too young for me anyway. What is he, early twenties? I must have ten years on him."

"You're right. Go for someone a little older. A man like Rick…I'd say he knows stuff. Things…sex things."

Carrie burst out laughing again, but was quick to heartily agree. "He probably knows the clitoris from the elbow," she whispered in agreement.

The crunch of footsteps on gravel caught Carrie's attention, and she looked up in surprise to see Rick approaching them. His expression was a mixture of concern and suspicion, as though he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to know what was going on.

"What are you two laughin' about?" he enquired politely, one of his eyebrows arched.

"Nothing," Carrie managed to deny, sobering very quickly. "Just…things."

"Sex things," Michonne whispered, eliciting a stifled giggle from Carrie.

Glaring at them now, Rick looked increasingly concerned. "What is going on?" he asked sternly, trying to sound intimidating.

"Everything's fine," Carrie smiled, taking pity on him. "Just walk away while you still have your dignity."

"Yes, Rick," Michonne smiled devilishly. "Just turn around and walk away."

Forcing herself to contain her laughter, Carrie watched as Rick looked between each of them before giving up. He turned on the spot and headed off, looking at them over his shoulder before turning his attention elsewhere. On the other hand, Michonne and Carrie were less distracted, and they both laid their eyes on his ass as he walked away, taking the opportunity to admire it.

"Mich, have you got a quarter?" Carrie asked, stifling her laughter. "I need to bounce it off something."

Laughing loudly, Michonne clutched her stomach as she kept looking at Rick, her amusement quickly escalating. "He's looking at us!" she tried to whisper.

"He knows we're talking about him," Carrie gasped, clearing her throat as she tried to control herself. It was difficult though, her own humour easily bouncing off Michonne's cheeky personality. "Oh, shit. Carl's looking!"

They immediately sobered, their laughter ceasing as they looked to the other side of the gas station and saw Carl looking at them. Distracted from his task, he peered at them in confusion, tilting his head in much the same way Rick seemed to. Behaving themselves now, Carrie and Michonne turned their conversation to something else, needing to make sure Carl didn't know they were checking out his dad's ass.

A short while later the group was ready to depart once again, their vehicles and spare containers filled to the brim was gasoline. It had taken them well over an hour and a half, and was only one of many stops they were going to be making over the next few days of their journey. After outlining the plans for the rest of the journey towards Rock Hill, the group began dispersing themselves amongst the vehicles, new drivers taking over while the former rested.

"Hey, hey…" Daryl said in distress, seeing Carl hobbling for the driver's door of the Hyundai, the keys sticking out of his pocket. "What's gon' on?"

"Dad said I can drive," Carl explained in delight. "We know the roads here should be clear, so-"

"See yah," Daryl muttered, throwing his crossbow over his shoulder and heading for another car.

"Oh come on, Daryl! I'm getting really good. Glenn?" Carl said next, looking to him. "You'll ride with me, right?"

"Oh, I've…I've gotta drive the minivan," he decided, snatching the keys from Tobin. "But you have fun."

Carrie watched in amusement as the other group members scattered away from Carl, avoiding eye contact as he appealed for them to be his passengers. Caught up in her amusement, however, Carrie didn't act quickly enough. Locking eyes with the only person who hadn't fled the vicinity, Carl looked at her next.

"You'll ride with me, won't you?" he asked, looking at her intensely. "Please…"

Her excuse was on the tip of her tongue, all too ready to break Carl's heart. She really didn't fancy being a passenger in a car under the control of a fourteen year old, but she just happened to catch Rick's eye. He stood behind Carl, waiting to take the crutches when he took the driver's seat. There was a hopeful look on his face, his gaze flickering between Carl and Carrie. Catching his eye, she was surprised to see Rick give her a small, almost imperceptible, nod.

"Sure," she said, feigning enthusiasm. "I'll ride with you."

"Thank you," he said, glaring at everyone else.

Letting Carl take the driver's seat, Rick collected his crutches and started to head around the car. He came face to face with Carrie, looking startled for a moment even though he knew she was there all along. Still amused, she watched as conflict crossed his face, clearly trying to decide whether he was capable of walking past her. When he turned on the spot and walked the long away around to the passenger side, Carrie tried not to laugh, knowing it wouldn't help. Rick was apprehensive, trying to hold back from whatever it was he wanted to do. She couldn't pressure him…but she didn't have to make it easy on him either.

Taking the back, Carrie tightly fastened her seat belt before kicking off her shoes and making herself comfortable. Stretching out her legs across the back seat, she smiled at Rick as he took the passenger seat, glancing back at her. The hint of a smile crossed his face too, before he cleared his throat and closed the door. Leaving it at that, she watched as Carl adjusted the seat and all of the mirrors, nervously situating himself.

"I've never gone faster than thirty miles before."

"Oh my God," Carrie cringed, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"It's fine," Rick placated the both of them. "You go as slow as you like. The other's won't go too far ahead."

Trying to curb his nerves, Carl started the engine and put the car into gear. The others departed quickly, Glenn in the minivan taking the lead while the removal truck followed. Aaron's sedan took took the middle position, while Abraham followed him in the military truck. Bringing up the rear, Carl steered the car onto the road and made his way through the town, driving carefully.

Soon enough they were back on the country roads, Carl cautiously accelerating to a speed he was comfortable with. As Rick promised, the others didn't get too far ahead, patiently driving at an even slower speed than normal. The kindness and patience of Rick's group constantly astounded Carrie. If she were being totally honest, she had expected Abraham to protest at Carl driving, knowing how regimented he was in keeping the group organised and on track. Despite this, he let Carl have his long awaited turn, even though travelling at a slower speed for an hour or so would mean putting them behind schedule.

"Dad...how old were you when you learnt to drive?"

Clearing his throat, Rick frowned a little as he thought about his answer. "I was probably about eight or nine."

"Really?" Carl questioned in surprise, echoing Carrie's thoughts. "That's too young."

Rick just shook his head. "You wouldn't remember, but Grandpa Grimes used to manage the Sundowner Horse Ranch. He taught me drive so I could earn some pocket money helping. I used to drive the truck back and forth from the stables, all around the fields and to the house."

"You can ride a motorbike too...can't you?"

There was a long pause before Rock answered, and Carrie got the feeling that Carl's question was really more of a carefully phrased statement. "Yes, I can ride a motorbike. And no, you're not learning to ride Daryl's."

Carl groaned dramatically, having been trying to win his father over on this matter. While the two of them playfully argued over the matter, Carrie smiled to herself on the backseat, her interest piqued by the knowledge that Rick could ride a motorcycle. Although Rick's ability was likely more due to a country upbringing than anything else, Carrie had always seen the appeal of motorcycles. Her parents had strongly disapproved of her first boyfriend Todd, whose motorbike had been the epitome of bad boy attitude, though she questioned whether this was really Rick's style.

Listening in amusement to their conversation, Carrie tore open one of the protein shakes and sprinkled it into the bottle of water she had prepared. They had only brought these with them in case of emergency, in case they lost their proper food supply. Although she generally disliked the taste, the addition to her diet was proving to be a great benefit. It had only been just over a week, and already Carrie could feel her body filling out once again. She wasn't all the way there, but her ribs were no longer gaunt, her hip bones no longer jutting out. Familiar curves that had once attracted second looks from men were hinting that they might return, a possibility that kept her chugging down the nasty tasting protein shakes.

Sitting back in comfort, Carrie tried not to focus too much on Carl's driving, not wanting her apprehension to make him feel even more nervous. They travelled in peaceful silence for some time, finding no trouble along the stretch of road that Aaron knew to be clear. The gentle rain kept up for an hour or so, providing good opportunity for Carl to get used to the wet roads. It slowed him down a little more, but Carrie could see that he was relaxed and comfortable, Rick's constant attention a reassurance. Remembering the frustration of driving in New York city, she couldn't help but relish in the wide open roads afforded to them these days.

"We're coming up on that road block I mentioned."

Aaron's voice through the radio broke the comfortable atmosphere in the car, rousing Carrie out of her state of tranquility. "What road block is this?" she asked apprehensively. Their journey south had been fraught with road blocks, their convoy frequently forced to double back and take a different route. With two large trucks to turn around, doubling back would be even more difficult not.

"A pile up," Carl answered, gently applying the brakes as the cars ahead began to slow. "Aaron said it was pretty bad."

Remembering that Carl knew their route home just as well as Abraham and Rick, Carrie took him at his word. She sat up properly and began paying attention, knowing what kind of trouble they could get into now that their convoy was slowing down. Glancing at him, she was pleased to note that Rick too was not as relaxed as he had been before.

The road up ahead curved around to the left, but with four vehicles ahead of them it was a few moments before Carrie could see the multiple car pile up that was blocking the road. What had probably started as one car missing the turn, likely in the midst of panic, had quickly turned into catastrophe. More than a dozen cars had been caught up in the accident, and since then they had lay stationary in a wreckage of overturned vehicles and crumpled metal. The convoy came to a stop fifty yards back, and there was a long pause before someone got out of the leading car. Watching from a distance, Carrie saw Nicholas climbing on top of the sedan with a pair of binoculars, scanning the wreckage for any signs of life.

"Can't see anything moving," he commented over the radio. "None of the doors have been opened…might be worth scavenging."

"That's a negative," Abraham replied. The door to the military truck opened now, and Abraham stepped out and stood on the side steps, peering at the sight ahead. "We've only got a few hours of daylight left, and we need to reach Rock Hill before nightfall."

"This crash happened at the very start. The cars are probably full of things to scavenge…prescription meds, food, batteries."

Impatient, Rick picked up the radio from the centre console and stepped in. "Abraham's in charge. Let's keep moving."

Carrie gave a short laugh at this, amused by what Rick had said. Abraham may be in charge of logistics and their route home, but everyone knew that it was Rick who was really in charge of this supply run. Whatever Rick said is how things went.

There was no further discussion, the cars starting up again and moving forward one by one. Frowning, Carrie peered through the windscreen and tried to see how they were getting around, but as they got closer the large space on the side of the road revealed itself to her. The embankment had only a slight incline down, but it was the rainfall that worried Carrie. Though it had stopped a little while ago, the clouds opening up to reveal the blue sky, the ground was still wet and muddy. But to her surprise the convoy began passing through without problem. The sedan went first, followed by the removal truck and then the minivan. As the military truck in front of them rocked from side to side as Rosita carefully manoeuvred it through the path, Carrie could see Carl getting nervous.

"What's wrong?" Rick asked.

"Just don't want to get stuck," he muttered.

"Because then you'd have to apologise to Michonne?"

Carl sighed. "Yeah."

Wondering why this would be the case, Carrie watched as the other vehicles made their way back onto the road and stopped up ahead, the wheels on the military truck spinning a little before it too reached the solid asphalt. Following Rick's directions, Carl brought the car off the road and onto the embankment, and already they could tell how soft the ground was.

"Avoid driving in their tracks," Rick instructed patiently. "The ground's too soft, so go wide."

Making his way around a fallen tree, Carl flexed his jaw as he concentrated, but a strange motion from the car made all of them start to worry. They suddenly lurched to a stop, the car's engine revving even though they went no where. From the backseat, Carrie watched as Rick turned to Carl and looked at him, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"You're stuck," Rick commented nonchalantly.

"Yeah," Carl agreed in annoyance, pressing down on the gas again. The tyres began to spin, the engine revving as he gripped the steering wheel in frustration.

"Stop." Holding up one of his hands, Rick waited until the tyres were stationary. "Now try slowly, and turn the wheel. You're looking for traction, not to spin the wheels."

Applying gentle pressure to the gas, Carl tried again to move the car forward, only succeeding in spinning the wheels again. Keeping a straight face, Carrie looked through the windows and kept an eye on the surroundings, her hand drifting to the gun holstered on her leg. Since Rick had taught her to shoot the other day, it was a slightly less burden to bear. She hadn't found occasion to use it yet, the others taking care of any Walkers they came across.

"Do you need a tow back there?" Abraham asked, the radio crackling.

"No thanks," Rick answered him, looking at Carl expectantly. "What are you going to do now?"

"We can't get a tow?"

"What would you do if the others weren't here?"

There was a short pause, Carl looking at his father as he thought. A moment later he straightened his shoulders. "I know what to do," he said confidently.

"Alright then," Rick agreed, opening his door. "Do it."

Carrying Carl's crutches, Rick stepped out of the car and glanced back at Carrie. Curious to see how Carl would get them out of this, Carrie too departed the car, stretching her limbs as she pulled her jacket on. The air was still, but her breath appeared as a cloud in front of her. Rubbing her hands together, she watched on as Rick handed Carl his crutches and hovered close by, worried about him slipping over in the muddy terrain.

"I need rocks and sticks," Carl began, looking around for said items. "And a shirt or something."

Still hovering, Rick nodded his head, his hands drifting to rest on his hips as he looked at Carl expectantly. The two of them stood there looking at each other, Rick slowly realising Carl expected him to get the required items. He opened his mouth as if to argue, and then stopped a moment later. It wasn't entirely unreasonable given Carl's injury. Certainly it would be faster at least.

"Alright," he agreed. "Rocks, sticks and one of Carl's shirts," he teased, sharing a smile with Carrie as he walked around and opened the trunk.

"No, wait!" Carl said urgently. Practically abandoning his crutches, he hobbled around to the back of the car and grabbed his pack. "It's alright, I'll get the shirt. You get the rocks."

Putting his hands on his hips, Rick narrowed his eyes at Carl. "Are you hiding something in there?" he asked suspiciously. "You haven't let me near your pack in days."

"No."

Not believing him, Rick sighed. "Carl," he began so quietly Carrie almost didn't hear. "I know what you've got…do not embarrass me, please."

"I don't need to embarrass you, you do it enough yourself," he bantered, holding on to his pack tightly. "Go and get some sticks!"

His jaw clenched, Rick glared at Carl before turning away, clearly suspecting that he was up to something. Leaving it for now, he came over to where Carrie was crouched scraping together a pile of loose rocks and gravel.

"I'll take care of it," he protested politely. "Stay in the car, keep warm."

"I can help," she shrugged, seeing no reason she shouldn't. Ignoring his protest, she headed for the fallen tree next, looking to gather some sticks.

"If you want to help, you could take down that Walker coming over," he suggested, jerking his head towards the tree line.

Scrutinising the tree line, she watched as a few of them rustled, warning them that something was approaching. Looking back to Rick, she could see that his suggestion was really more of a challenge, wanting to see if he had managed to teach her anything the other day.

"Here," he prompted, heading back to the passenger seat. Opening the glove compartnemt, he took out a long black cylinder and then requested her gun. "Better use a silencer, Carl's taking his time."

"I heard that," he called out, rummaging through the trunk.

Watching as Rick screwed the silencer onto the end of the gun, Carrie voiced a concern. "I've never used a silencer before."

He seemed unconcerned. "It will be a little top heavy," he commented, handing it back to her. "But it won't make a difference to your shots."

She looked up to ask Rick something else, but he was gone, heaping a handful of gravel and sticks into the towel Carl had found. He didn't look concerned about the Walker that had finally emerged from the tree line, heading towards them with interest. Either he trusted her enough to not hover, or he was faking it to boost her confidence. Glancing around, she saw the others up ahead, everyone milling around outside their cars as they waited for Carl to get the car unstuck.

Emboldened, Carrie took a deep breath and headed towards the Walker, loading her magazine and putting a round into the chamber. Stopping at a generous distance, she readied herself and raised the gun, annoyed by the way the silencer changed the weight distribution. It was more difficult to keep it steady, the top wavering a little until she got it under her control. Taking aim, she looked at the Walker as it headed for her. It was missing half of it's head, and she was surprised that it was still alive. Her first shot hit it's stomach, the gun wavering at the wrong moment.

"Adjust your grip," Rick called out patiently. "Don't cup it from the bottom."

Annoyed with herself, she realised her mistake. One quick adjustment later, Carrie took aim again and got a head shot, stopping the Walker in it's tracks. Pleased with her success, she looked around for signs of a second one, and then flicked the safety switch on.

"Come on, Carl," she teased, returning to the car where he awkwardly crouched by the front tyre. "Hurry up."

Wedging the bundle of sticks and gravel in front of the tyre, Carl stuck his middle finger up at her with a grin, quickly lowering it when Rick looked around.

"Did you just flip her off?"

"No."

"You seeing things, Rick?" Carrie shrugged, raising her eyebrows.

Looking between the two of them, Rick sighed. "Wouldn't be the first time," he muttered, helping Carl back to his feet. "Ease it forward, slowly."

Smiling at her gratefully, Carl took the front passenger seat and started the car. The wheels spun for a moment before finding the traction they sought. Catching the bundle beneath the tyre, the car lurched forward with a loud squelch, Carl giving a whoop of delight as he drove the car back up onto the road.

"Did he flip you off?" Rick asked her again, picking up Carl's crutches as they followed him.

"No," she denied emphatically, but perhaps her face gave her away, for he rolled his eyes a moment later.

"Scary thing is, I was about to do the same thing," he admitted.

"Can't punish him for something you were about to do?"

"No."

"And how's Carl going to embarrass you?" she asked next, referring to the conversation they held under their breaths.

He took her gun and unscrewed the silencer. "If he know's what's good for him, he's not," he said darkly. There was a short pause, and he looked at her as they walked side by side. "So…what were you and Michonne talking about earlier?" he enquired, trying to appear nonchalant.

Feeling bold, she gave him a blunt answer. "Sex."

He faltered at this, looking at her in surprise. "And that involves a lot of laughter?" he asked, handing back her gun.

"It can do," she shrugged. "If you're doing it right."

"I see." He swallowed nervously, his jaw flexed as he looked anywhere but her.

"You look like a deer caught in the head lights," she teased, resisting the urge to nudge him playfully.

They had reached the car now, Rick hesitating before opening his door. "Feel like it, too," he admitted, laughing in spite of himself.

Not wanting to waste any more time, their convoy set off again, slowly making their way towards their next destination where they hoped to stop for the night. Thinking about how comfortable it had been sleeping in that motel in Silverpine, Carrie really didn't fancy the idea of road side camping, particularly if the poor weather kept up. If it rained they would sleep in the cars, but in reality, they were all sick and tired of the cramped quarters. The idea of clearing another motel or house, while time consuming, was highly approved of by the group.

Yet in spite of their hopeful intentions, they found themselves camping on the side of the road a mere twenty miles from their destination. With daylight fading quickly and their gas tanks painstakingly low, there was an unspoken agreement that they not push their luck. Taking advantage of the last half hour of light, they stopped on a long stretch of road and parked the vehicles in a circular formation, quickly setting up their camp. While Aaron started a small fire and Nicholas distributed bedding, the rest of them set about preparing a meal that would give them sustenance for another day. In no time at all the group was situated and comfortable, although when night fell so did the temperature. By eight o'clock they were wrapped in blankets as they sat around the low fire, most of them contemplating calling it a night and going to bed early. The new dark clouds didn't look as though they would hold out, and so they had cleared as much space as possible in the back of the two trucks and in each car. Aside from those keeping watch, everyone would be warm enough when they slept that night.

Though the meal was little more than instant mashed potato and tinned beans, Carrie was tired and full from eating, and was giving serious thought to being the first to go to sleep. She didn't have watch duty, and perhaps with enough sleep she could finally make herself useful tomorrow. With the exception of the time she drove to King County, she hadn't yet been asked to drive on the journey home, even though they now possessed five vehicles amongst only twelve people. Though she understood their reasons at first, given her poor health and their initial mistrust of her, she was starting to wonder if they didn't quite trust her driving skills. Even that afternoon when Rick had driven the rest of the way, he hadn't asked that she take over when his eyes started drooping, tiredness catching up with him. With a pang of annoyance, she hoped he wasn't one of those men who always insisted on driving.

Planning on snagging the prime sleeping spot in the back of the Hyundai, Carrie began getting ready to go to sleep. She brushed her hair and her teeth, seeking out something to clean herself up with. Though the days of always being clean and well presented were past her, the dried mud on her lower legs was beginning to annoy her, finding herself constantly picking at it. Slipping off her boots, she shivered from the cold as she splashed some water down her leg and used her hand to vigorously clean it up.

"You're not going to bed yet, are you?" Glenn enquired, accidentally sneaking up on her.

"Yeah," she nodded, trying to dry her leg off. She had taken a risk by wearing her yoga pants that day, wanting to be comfortable, but they weren't exactly warm. "Why? You need me to take watch?"

He just shook his head. "No, that's covered. Just stay up a bit longer…."

"Okay," she agreed in curiosity.

She finished up quickly and then returned to the group, taking her seat beside Rosita and sharing her blanket. Looking around, she looked for any indication of what might be going on, of what might prompt Glenn to encourage her to stay. Ten minutes passed, Carrie gratefully accepting a mug of tea as Aaron began preparing hot drinks for everyone. The group sat together in relative comfort, keeping their voices low as they listened for the sounds of approaching Walkers. In his usual perch, Daryl sat atop of the removal truck with binoculars and a rifle, keeping watch on their surroundings while everyone else enjoyed the evening.

A short while later, Carl and Michonne got up, sharing a meaningful glance as they went to the trunk of the Hyundai. Seeing Carrie was watching them, Michonne gave her a quick wink and then jerked her head towards Rick. Frowning, she looked at Rick, who was doing nothing unusual, and tried to make the connection. Carl and Michonne stood at the trunk of the car for a few minutes, whispering as they shone a flashlight at something. Looking up at Daryl, Carl waved his hand and mouthed something to him. There was a glint of silver as Daryl tossed something down from the top of the truck. Grinning, Carl turned back to the trunk of the car, he and Michonne apparently sharing one hell of a secret.

"Happy birthday to you…" they began singing in unison. "Happy birthday to you!"

Everyone looked around in surprise, laughing as they saw Michonne carrying a Twinkie with a lone candle stuck in the top. It didn't take everyone long to figure out whose birthday it was, Rick immediately lowering his head with a groan of embarrassment. Realising what Rick had been so worried about earlier, Carrie laughed and joined in with the others singing, albeit quietly. It was his birthday, and he didn't want anyone to know about it.

"Happy birthday dear Ri-ick…Happy birthday to you!"

Rick shook his head to himself, embarrassed by the fuss. Raising his head, he glared at Carl. "When we get home, you're grounded."

"Good luck with that," he teased, pleased when everyone laughed. "Blow out your candle."

"Don't forget to make a wish," Michonne added, lowering the Twinkie towards him.

Scratching the back of his neck, Rick glanced at Carrie with a strange look, the corner of his mouth turning upward a little. He looked back at Carl and then blew out the lone candle, shaking his head to himself as everyone clapped quietly.

"Alright, that's enough," he scolded them at large, embarrassed by the celebration.

"Uh uh," Michonne nagged, removing the candle. "Twinkies for everyone."

Being good natured about all the fuss, Rick accepted the first Twinkie and bit into it, groaning in delight. With the knowledge that they had all just been singing, albeit quietly, Glenn and Nicholas armed themselves and then began walking the perimeter, gratefully taking a Twinkie each when Michonne offered them. Eating her own, Carrie was pleased Glenn had told her not to go to bed…she didn't want to miss the look on Rick's face. Though he was clearly embarrassed, he was smiling in good nature, something the group didn't often find him doing.

"So, Carl," Rick began playfully. "What are you going to do with all your spare time being grounded?"

Carl just laughed, his grin getting even wider if possible. "You want your present or not?"

"You got me a present?"

"Of course I got you a present. It's your birthday. Your thirt-"

"Alright," Rick cut him off with a sharp nudge. "Gimme."

Eager, Carl reached behind where he sat and picked up Rick's present, a large shape that seemed heavy in his hands. Delaying for a moment, he placed it on the ground and pulled a envelope from his back pocket. "Carol said you'd like this."

Taking it from him, Rick squinted in the poor light as he opened the envelope and took out a birthday card. Another smile graced his face as he looked at the front and then inside, reading the message. "Dear Dad, Happy Birthday…Sorry for the things I say during Monopoly. Love Carl and Judith." Giving a wry smile, he pulled Carl into a rough one armed hug. "Thank you."

The card was passed around the group as Carl presented his father with his actual present. Plentifully wrapped in newspaper, the large and heavy shape was not distinguishable to the others, but the moment Rick took it in his hands he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Seriously?" Rick questioned.

"Open it," Carl grunted impatiently.

Looking around at the others, Rick shook his head to himself as he pulled off the old newspaper to reveal a large silver tin. "There's no label," Rick protested, looking worried. "Don't tell me it's tinned beetroot or something."

"It's pudding!" Carl promised in exasperation. "It says so on the bottom."

"I didn't know you were a fan of pudding," commented Abraham.

"I'm not," Rick said darkly, narrowing his eyes at his son. Just as Carrie began wondering what it all meant, Rick nudged him again. "Tell everyone what you did."

"I didn't do anything," Carl protested, reluctantly explaining after everyone began insisting. "After we lost the prison, it was just me and Dad on our own. I found some pudding, and I ate it."

"No. You ate one hundred and twelve ounces of pudding, and you didn't share a bite of it with me!"

"I was hungry…"

"So was I!"

"You were unconscious," Carl waved him off.

"Still could have saved me some," he laughed, turning the tin over in his hands. "How about we save this for when we get home, maybe let Judith have some?"

Carl shrugged. "Want your other present now?"

Exasperated by the fuss, Rick nodded his head. "Go on."

Barely able to contain his smile, Carl took his Sheriff's hat off and plopped it onto Rick's head instead. "I did say you could borrow it," he commented, Rosita wolf whistling as everyone chuckled in amusement.

"I've never seen you wearing that," Michonne pondered, tilting her head as she looked at him. "It suits you."

"I would want to, I wore this damn thing for fifteen years."

Agreeing with Michonne's observation that the hat suited him, Carrie watched as Rick adjusted it on his head. Though he wore the hat with a sense of familiarity, Carrie struggled to picture him wearing the traditional Sheriff's uniform, let alone short haired and clean shaven as would have been expected. Feeling Rosita nudging her, Carrie looked around and saw that she was offering the birthday card. Taking it, smiled as she realised it was hand made. A piece of paper folded in half, the simple card displayed two colourful hand prints on the front page, a large one in blue and a much smaller one in soft pink. Her heart swelled as she looked at it, remembering a time when she too had made something like this for her parents.

"I call bull shit!" Abraham said loudly, softening his voice a moment later. "The size of that tin?"

"Yes," Carl insisted.

"Not even I could eat that," Abraham shook his head, disbelieving his story.

Carl remained adamant of his story. "I ate it all…seriously. If there was any left, I would have brought it back for Dad."

Letting the others question the claim that Carl had eaten the entire tin on his own, Carrie passed Rick's birthday card on to the next person and began heading off for bed. Just like everyone else she was very tired, and if she was well rested perhaps she would drive one of the cars tomorrow, giving the others the opportunity to rest. There wasn't any harm in having another driver willing and able. As she began making her farewells, the whiff of something rotten drifted past the group, everyone turning their noses up in disgust.

"Must be a Walker round 'ere," Daryl commented, still sitting atop the truck. He shone the spotlight around the vicinity, looking for signs of movement. "Dead animal or somethin'."

"Whatever it is, let's hope it stays back," Tobin grumbled, the others echoing his sentiment.

Arranging some bedding, Carrie began tossing pillows and blankets into the front seats for whoever else joined her in that car, though she hoped to God it wasn't Abraham. That man's snores could wake a bear in hibernation. Ever concerned about it, she removed her gun from the holster, double checking that it wasn't loaded before slipping it into the pocket of the seat in front. Removing the magazines from her pocket and taking off her knife and machete, she collapsed across the backseat just as she heard a disturbance from the group.

Annoyed, Carrie sat up again just as a foul stench slowly infiltrated the car, making her stomach turn as she hastily pulled her shirt over her face. Gagging, she looked out at the rest of the group, seeing them in much the same state as she was. Everyone was on their feet now, looking up the road in the direction the smell was coming from. The stench stung the back of her throat, making her cough as she pulled her tank top up over her mouth and nose.

"What's going on?" she asked as she got out, breathing only long enough to speak.

"Wind must be pickin' up somethin'," Daryl told her, jumping down from the truck. "Carryin' that stink down to us here."

"It's a herd…it must be," Glenn said, his voice calmer than his expression. "Abraham? Remember on the road to Washington? The wind picked up, and we could smell it ahead?"

"He's right," Abraham nodded, glancing over at Nicholas who was vomiting. "We've been here two hours now, and this is the first gust of wind."

There was a short pause, everyone looking to Rick for guidance, for their next instructions. Unlike the rest of them, he looked strangely calm, if not a little annoyed by the sudden change in circumstances. Lowering his hand from his mouth, he took his hat off and returned it to Carl.

"Carl, get in the car. Glenn, Abraham, Aaron. You're with me, let's go take a look up the road. Daryl and Michonne can take watch," he continued, looking at each person in turn. "Everyone else pack up."

Their instructions given, everyone began following Rick's lead without protest. Making sure everyone was well armed, Rick rounded up his small group who were going up the road with him, scanning the faces to find Carl's.

"Get in the car," Rick told him again, sounding a little sterner now.

"I'm helping," Carl protested, heaping soil onto their fire.

"Do not make me tell you again."

Rick's tone was not to be argued with, and so Carl obediently went to the closest open door and sat on the edge of the back seat where Carrie had been. "Happy?"

"Delighted," Rick grunted, quickly conversing with Daryl. "We won't go far. I have a radio."

"Careful with your flashlights…if that's a herd and they see you, we'll be in-"

Rick nodded, knowing what he was getting at. "Shit Creek without a shovel, yeah." With Glenn and the others waiting for him, Rick took one last look around, his eyes falling on Carrie's leg. "Where's your gun?" he demanded. "Carrie?"

"I've got it," she promised, remembering she had left it in the car. Putting down the plastic tub of the groups food, she began heading back to the car.

"Load it," he told her sternly.

Rick was gone before Carrie could say anything else, he, Glenn, Abraham and Aaron heading up the road without hesitation. Watching them until they disappeared, Carrie returned to the car where Carl was, gratefully taking her gun back as he handed it to her.

"You alright?" she asked him, seeing he was looking up the road where his father had gone.

Carl nodded. "Yeah…he'll be back soon."

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Carrie wished she could feel as certain as Carl.


	21. Chapter 21

It was becoming increasingly difficult to sit across the camp fire from the one person he wasn't supposed to be thinking about, the one person who he shouldn't be looking at the way he was. Probably oblivious to Rick's internal conflict, Carrie sat beside Rosita as the group settled in for the evening, wasting a few hours before they turned in to sleep for the night. Why did she have to sit there like that? She was right in his line of sight…didn't she realise how difficult it was for him to not look at her? Didn't she realise why he couldn't? The reason sat right next to him.

Carl was practically beaming as he and Rick shared another Twinkie, proud that the gift he had given his father was so well received. The two minute conversation the two of them had the other night was still haunting Rick, the knowledge that Carl didn't want him to be with another woman difficult to hear. Although he hadn't said it plainly, the notion was implied. With Carol and Maggie alone, Judith had enough maternal support. According to Carl, there was no need for Rick to find a mother for his daughter, to replace his dead wife with someone new. While he understood that Carl's views on the subject were largely naive, that Lori's place in his life was not just a vacancy that could be filled, these comments did serve to caution him. He knew what his son was trying to tell him…that he wanted Rick all to himself, that he wasn't ready to move on from his mother's death.

He couldn't blame Carl for this, knowing that his grief for Lori made him selfish in wanting Rick to himself…hell, it wasn't even unreasonable. And yet Carl's need for him left Rick with an unsettled feeling in his stomach, his own selfishness making him wonder how long this had to go on for. How long would Carl need Rick exclusively? How much time needed to pass before Rick was allowed to move on with his life? Then again…Christ, he wasn't sure he was ready for that, despite how often he found himself looking at Carrie, wishing they could be alone together. Did wanting Carrie mean he was done with Lori, that he was over her?

He got over Lori's death, that much was for sure. But it was the event of her death that he had recovered from, not her absence. Nevertheless, guilt ate away at his stomach, uncomfortably aware of how little he grieved for her. Time was essential to grief, and time was not a luxury that had been afford to him. Certainly living in the prison had given him some opportunity. Hours in the gardens were usually spent with Lori occupying his thoughts, their children serving as a constant and painful reminder. Since the fall of the prison, thoughts of his wife had been pushed to the back of his mind, and fairly so. But even when they had settled into Alexandria, Rick's grief seemed to be forgotten. Lori felt like she was someone else's wife…that she had existed in an entirely different world that he no longer occupied. He supposed she had.

Despite the distance he felt towards her memory, Rick hadn't been lying when he told Carl that he loved her still. That notion only furthered the conflict he felt towards pursuing Carrie. How could he even think about another woman the way he was when he still loved his wife? Vividly he thought of Lori and Shane, the images his mind had constructed of the two of them together. He didn't think of that often, having forgiven Lori a long time ago…but the parallels had to be drawn. Was this the same as what Lori had done?

In spite of his thoughts, Rick swore he could feel his wife's presence in his head, her voice telling him to stop beating himself up. He knew she would want him to move on one day, to find love with someone else….hell, to find a quick screw if the opportunity came up. It was something they had talked about before the outbreak, the idea that should one of them die, the other should carry on living their life, that they shouldn't live in grief forever. Irrationally though, it felt like cheating….he still wore his wedding ring for Christ's sake. Looking at it now, he tried not to fiddle with it.

He had almost lost it a few weeks ago, washing his hands in a stream of water while on the road. His weight declining rapidly it had slipped down his finger, but he closed his fist just in time to catch it. Curiously, he had proceeded to take it all the way off, holding his bare hand up in the sunlight. The indentation from the metal was visible, the stripe of skin pale in comparison to the tan he had everywhere else. If he squinted, it looked like he was still wearing it.

"Dad?" Carl began in concern, rousing him from his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said promptly, fixing a content expression on his face. Looking at Carl and pondering everything that was on his mind, he slung his arm around his shoulder and pulled him into an awkward sideways hug. "I love you."

"Yeah," he grunted, only slightly embarrassed. Carl knew how important these words were to express. "You too."

Carl began to say something else now, but he trailed off as he screwed his face up. A slight breeze had picked up now, bringing with it the familiar smell of rotting flesh. It was gone a moment later, but everyone still pulled disgusted expressions and made hearty protests.

"Must be a Walker round here," Daryl commented, still sitting atop the truck. He shone the spotlight around the vicinity, looking for signs of movement. "Dead animal or somethin'."

"Whatever it is, let's hope it stays back," Tobin grumbled, the others echoing his sentiment.

Getting a prickling feeling on the back of his neck, Rick got to his feet and looked around, straining his ears to hear the sound of a Walker approaching. Daryl was still shining the spotlight around the immediate vicinity, but he turned it off a moment later, not wanting to attract it if there was one. With only the light from the campfire to see by, Rick kept looking, his hand resting on his Colt. The breeze picked up again, the stench returning with greater ferocity.

Rick immediately felt his stomach revolt, and he slapped his hand across his mouth and nose to protect his senses. As everyone else began groaning in disgust, Rick looked up at Daryl, his eyes watering. The stench was thick and heavy, and Rick swore he could feel it settling onto his skin like a fine dust. Despite his attempt to control himself, he started coughing in disgust…this stench was pretty bad.

"What's going on?" Carrie asked, getting out of the Hyundai where she had just laid down to sleep.

"Wind must be pickin' up somethin'," Daryl told her, jumping down from the truck. "Carryin' that stink down to us here."

"It's a herd…it must be," Glenn said, his voice calmer than his expression. "Abraham? Remember on the road to Washington? The wind picked up, and we could smell it ahead?"

"He's right," Abraham nodded, glancing over at Nicholas who was vomiting. "We've been here two hours now, and this is the first gust of wind."

There was a short pause, everyone turning to Rick for guidance. Glenn had told him about the herd they had come across on their first expedition to Washington, about how the only warning they had was the sudden stench that wafted down towards them. Following the direction of the wind, Rick looked up the road, the slight incline meaning that he could only see so far. They had stopped here for the night, the long stretch of sloping road looking convenient. With enough supplies they had neglected to look around in the woods…they had also neglected to look at what was over the hill. Annoyed by their lack of foresight, Rick lowered his hand and looked around for Carl. He knew what they needed to do…the first thing would be to ascertain exactly what they were facing, but first he had to make sure Carl was taken care of.

"Carl, get in the car," he instructed, taking his hat off and returning it to him. "Glenn, Abraham and Aaron. You're with me. Let's go take a look up the road. The rest of you," he continued, looking at each person in turn. "Daryl and Tobin can take watch, everyone else pack up."

Everyone followed Rick's lead without protest, the group stepping into action to get themselves organised. Rounding up Glenn, Abraham and Aaron, he made sure they were each adequately armed before taking one of the radios from the car. Looking around, he gritted his teeth when he saw Carl heaping soil onto the campfire to put it out.

"Get in the car."

"I'm helping," he protested.

"Do not make me tell you again."

Though he too gritted his teeth, Carl obediently went to the nearest car and sat down on the edge of the seat. "Happy?"

"Delighted," he grunted, looking around for Daryl. "We won't go far. I have a radio."

"Careful with your flashlights…if that's a herd and they see you, we'll be in-"

Rick nodded, knowing what he was getting at. "Yeah…Shit creek without a shovel." With Glenn and the others waiting for him, Rick took one last look around, his eyes falling on Carrie's leg. "Where's your gun?" he demanded. "Carrie?"

"I've got it," she said, rushing back to the car.

"Load it," he told her, annoyed that she didn't have it in her holster.

Not wasting anymore time, he took one last look at Carl to make sure he was doing as he was told, and then set off up the road. He, Abraham, Glenn and Aaron spread out into a line across the road, their walk in the darkness taken in complete silence except for the sound of their footsteps. Walking slowly, they kept their footsteps light and cautious, not knowing exactly how close they were to danger. Mentally kicking himself, Rick knew they should have made more of an effort to check out their surroundings before they settled in for the night. But they were all exhausted, and with light fading quickly they had focused more on preparing a fire and food. They didn't need water, and the vicinity was so free of Walkers that they hadn't bothered to check anything further…they didn't even take the short walk to see what was over the crest of the small hill.

As they approached the crest of the hill they turned off their flashlights and shrouded themselves in darkness, letting their eyes adjust. There was heavy cloud cover and little moonlight by which to see by, but by the time they reached the top of the hill they were able to clearly make out the magnitude of the danger they were facing. If the stench wasn't enough, the sight of little black shapes scattered across the landscape was enough to turn Rick's stomach…there was no doubt about what those little black shapes were. Close to the town of Rock Hill, the road was flanked by open fields that lead into the woods, the space providing suitable room for the herd to congregate. Rick stood there in silence for a few moments, he and the others taking a few moments to mentally process the problem.

This herd could be thousands.

"Mother Dick," Abraham whispered, his shoulders slumping.

Echoing his sentiment, Rick calmly assessed the situation, his head running through various options.

"What's this Abraham?" Glenn enquired softly. "A shit storm, or a storm of shit?"

"I'm going to let you call this one….come on now, be creative. What is this, Glenn?"

Glenn sighed, gagging a little as the stench got the better of him. "This is a metric tonne of no fucking way."

Abraham scoffed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "We'll see about that."

"Hey, what does that mean?" Glenn asked apprehensively, watching as Abraham turned and started to head back. Coming to a realisation, Glenn suddenly took off after him. "Abraham, if that means what I think it means, then no way!"

Leaving them to it, Rick stayed where he was as he thought. He felt strangely disconnected to the problem he was presented with, as though it was something he didn't need to worry about quite yet. Staying calm, he sought a solution to the problem at hand, wishing he could find one.

Aaron came and stood by his side, the two of them observing the massive herd. "What are you thinking?"

Struggling to address the most urgent problem, Rick began thinking about Alexandria. While Deanna claimed northern Virginia had been largely evacuated, that wouldn't stop thousands of Walkers from passing them by one day. Facing such a herd right now, Rick felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing his worries were now validated. When they returned to Alexandria and told Deanna about this, she would have no choice but to listen to him, to accept the changes that he wanted to implement for Alexandria's safety.

"I'm thinking about how much gas we've got," he answered, realising Aaron was waiting expectantly.

"Not much."

"No," he agreed. "Not much at all."

"Next gas station is on the other side of that."

"That's right."

There was an awkward pause before Aaron spoke up. "Come on, let's get back."

Rick reluctantly followed him back, not at all ready to face the group and tell them they had to turn around. They were low on gas, and the nearest gas station they could access was hundreds of miles back the way they had come. That day they knew they had been pushing their luck in trying to reach Rock Hill on their chosen route…but then again, it was their lack of gas that had made them stop for the night. If their tanks had been full, they would have continued driving to Rock Hill and driven straight into this herd. Their poor gas levels had been a blessing in disguise.

"Start packing up," Rick instructed Michonne and Nicholas, ensuring his demeanour remained calm. "We have to go."

"Good luck with that," Michonne said quietly, indicating to the minivan.

Following his gaze, Rick sighed to see Glenn and Abraham in the middle of what seemed to be a heated argument. On the hood of the minivan was one of their maps, Daryl and the others standing back a little and listening as they tried to formulate a plan.

"What's the problem?" Rick asked, striding over. As he passed him he clasped Carl on the shoulder, hoping to reassure him a little.

Glenn looked up, his expression pained. "We need to go back."

"We should push through," Abraham argued.

"No fucking way!"

"We haven't got enough gas to go back!" Abraham slammed his hand down on the hood of the car. "We've only got enough to get ourselves to Rock Hill."

"We're not going to get through that amount of Walkers," Glenn argued insistently. "What about when we hit those Walkers on the way to Alexandria? That was disastrous."

"We had body parts in the engine," Michonne agreed.

"That was in a beat up old lemon," Abraham shook his head. "We've got a military truck…I've driven one through Wakers before."

"Let's say we do get through…What do we do when we run out of gas just outside Rock Hill with a herd that size on our asses? It's taking us nearly two hours to pump gas as it is."

"There's no gas back the other way for a hundred and eighty miles! We'll still be in shit creek without a shovel!"

"We might be in shit creek, but we won't have a herd of Walkers on us."

"Everybody calm down," Rick said quietly, his authoritative voice cutting through the argument with ease.

Knowing when to shut up, the arguers fell silent. Taking his flashlight from his duty belt, Rick shone it on the map and observed it silently, his mind mapping out a variety of scenarios. Waving Daryl over, Rick pointed out a few spots and traced out a path with his fingers, seeking his opinion. Thinking about it, Daryl just shrugged unhelpfully, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. They conversed in silence, somehow always knowing what the other was going to say.

"What are you thinking?" Michonne enquired patiently.

"We can't go through it," Rick agreed with Glenn. "And going back isn't ideal," he agreed with Abraham. Pointing to the map now, he traced out an alternate route. "Our problem is not the herd, it's gas. A group of us can cut through the woods on foot to get to this road…there should be some properties in this area."

"Through the woods, at night?" Aidan said skeptically. "With a herd that size congregating the woods will be full of them."

"We haven't seen a Walker all night…the woods could be empty."

"Or they could be full."

"It's a risk we've got to take."

"And what about when morning comes? What if the light stirs them up and they come down on us? Then what?"

"Hide in the trucks,."

"And when they settle down surrounding us?" Abraham asked. "We can't sit in the trucks and wait for them to move again."

"There're hundreds of them," Nicholas added. "You going to just let your son sit in a truck surrounded by Walkers?"

Rick looked up at him. "Do not question who my priority is," he said darkly, letting the jab get his temper up.

"Then why'd you brin-"

"If we can't cut through the woods on foot," Rick cut him off, continuing in spite of his frustration at Nicholas. "Then we have to take our chances doubling back."

"When we run out of gas, we'll be on foot walking a hundred and eighty miles back to the nearest gas station," Abraham stated. "Last time we were on foot, we nearly didn't make it."

"It's a risk," he agreed. "You may have taken a military vehicle through a herd before, but not with four others following…even if we did get through, we've still got to pump gas with them on our asses."

A slew of mutters broke out, everyone agitated and anxious. Rick echoed their anxiety. The knowledge that potentially thousands of Walkers were congregated less than half a mile from his injured son was not without impact. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he listened as Daryl traced his chosen route through the woods, taking them through as quickly as possible. His heart sinking, Rick realised just how close they were…Alexandria should only be another four days away…five at the most. They were so close to getting home safely, and now they were stranded behind a herd of Walkers, dangerously low on gas.

"We put all our gas into the removal truck, pile in the back and then get the hell out of here," Rosita suggested. "Once we get back to the gas station-"

"A hundred and eighty miles away."

"We fill anything we can with gas, and double back to fill up the military truck. We can abandon these cars, but not the supplies."

"No, the herd will have moved by then," Aidan argued. "Anything we leave behind tonight, we're abandoning."

"Fine, then we take what we can, double back, and then get to Alexandria," she continued.

"That's plausible," Michonne agreed. "Not ideal, but it get us out of here."

"We could leave it a while and then come back," added Glenn, beginning to look relieved. "In a month or so the herd will have moved on."

As murmurs of agreement started circling, Rick looked around in surprise to see Carrie moving to the front of the group, an impatient expression on her face. "That's a bad idea," she said bluntly, looking at each of them in turn. "We can't leave the supplies here. Someone will take them."

"Who? Nicholas laughed. "The Walkers?"

Arching an eyebrow, she seemed to take a moment, perhaps praying for patience. Glancing at Rick she gestured to the map. "This is Rock Hill?" she asked, pointing to a spot.

"Yes." Pointing a few miles south, he showed her where they estimated their current position to be.

"We definitely passed this road though, right?"

"Masonry road? Yes. We passed that twenty miles back."

She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as she did. A moment later she looked up at him, their close proximity enabling Rick to carefully scrutinise her expression. She was resolved about something, determined.

"I know what to do."

"Sorry?" Aidan asked, raising his eyebrows. "You know what to do?"

Carrie glared at him, recognising his skepticism. "Yes," she nodded. "We're not going anywhere…but the Walkers are. We just make them move," she concluded nonchalantly.

While Aidan gave a short laugh of derision, Rick folded his arms across his chest and peered at her, already seeing where she was going with this. For a moment he was back in Atlanta in the early days, watching Glenn grinning as he did burnouts in the Dodge Challenger in order to distract the Walkers…to make them move off the street so he could rescue the others.

"You can see what I'm getting at," Carrie said in relief. "Can't you?"

"Yes, I can," he nodded grimly. As a few others too began to understand, Rick looked around at their vehicles, the plan formulating in his mind just as Carrie began explaining it.

"We siphon the gas from the cars and fill up our two best. I'll take one and stir up the herd, while everyone else lays low in the removal truck. I'll lead them back the way we came." As she spoke, she jabbed her finger at the map, outlining the route. Calm and confident, Carrie believed everything she was saying, knowing it would work. "The other car we've gassed can go ahead to Rock Hill and fill up the spare containers, and then bring them back to the others. They'll only need enough to get every car to the gas station…Problem solved."

"What about you?" Rick asked. "How far south do you have to lead them?"

"I'll only need to go to Masonry road. If I turn off there, I can either take the longer route to Rock Hill, this way here, or I can wait for the herd to pass and just double back."

"How do you know it will work?" asked Rosita, not impolitely.

"I've done this before," she assured them. "Even if the herd is thousands, the moment some of them start following something, the others will too."

"Like dominos," Daryl commented, looking at her in admiration. "Once they start…"

"…they'll go for days," she concluded. "It could take all night for them all to clear, but once they do, they'll keep going."

"What about stragglers?" Daryl mentioned next.

Carrie just shook her head. "We haven't seen a Walker in these woods all night. They're all congregated. They're like sheep, they stay together."

"She's right," Glenn commented. "That herd we saw on the way to Washington with Eugene, none of them strayed from the group. We were parked just down the road for hours."

"It will work," she insisted, standing with her hands on her hips. "Trust me." She was met once again by stunned silence, everyone looking at her with combinations of shock and awe.

Abraham slammed his fist on the hood of the car. "Well mark me down as scared, and turned on," he declared loudly. "This just might work."

A low laughed passed around the group, but before they leapt into action they turned to Rick, waiting for his approval. Considering Carrie, seeing how confident she was, he nodded in approval. "Let's do it."

There was an instant flurry of activity, the entire group acting without needing further instruction. Working as the well oiled team they had become over the last two weeks, they set about various tasks, keeping their voices low as the wind picked up and brought a fresh gust of rotting odour. Before they started siphoning the gas from each car, Tobin and Nicholas rearranged their formation, parking the sedan, military truck and Hyundai around the removal truck to afford it a little more protection.

"Carrie should take the minivan." Abraham said to Rick, seeing him still poring over the map. "Its engine's solid, and it's got powerful acceleration. She'll need the fullest tank, some spare gas too. Splitting into three groups, we'll all need food, water and a medical kit, not to mention ammunition."

"And flares," Rick decided, tracing his finger over the various routes to Rock Hill. "We'll need radios and ear pieces too."

"Agreed. Once the herd has cleared, I'll take the Hyundai into Silverpine. I'll bring Glenn and Aidan with me…maybe Daryl too."

"Yes to Daryl, no to Glenn," Rick decided, looking up from the map. "I'm going with Carrie, so I need Glenn to stay with Carl. Take Tobin instead."

Only mildly surprised, Abraham nodded in agreement. "That won't go down well with Carl."

"Leave him to me," he muttered, folding up the map. "Will you need this to get to Rock Hill?"

"No. You and Carrie take it."

Leaving it at that, Rick tucked the map into his pocket and went looking for her. Their campsite was a flurry of activity, and he gratefully took note that Carl was with Daryl, the two of them working quickly to drain the remaining gas out of the military truck and into a container. Seeing Carrie working with Rosita on the sedan's gas tank, he quickly pulled her away.

"I'm going with you," he told her quietly, making sure Carl didn't hear just yet. "I need you to make sure the minivan has food, water and a medical kit. Abraham's bringing us some flares, make sure there's at least two. I'm getting us weapons."

She didn't question anything he told her, just nodded her head and went on her way. Leaving her to it, Rick climbed into the back of the military truck and shone his flashlight around, seeking out enough weapons and ammunition to make sure everyone in the group was more than adequately armed. Taking spare knives, he grabbed the bag full of radios and ear pieces and hastily distributed them among the group. Helping Glenn slip the long cord attached to the earpiece under his clothing, he told him about his decision to go with Carrie.

"I'm leaving you in charge," he finished seriously. "Tomorrow, Abraham's taking a few others to Rock Hill. I need you to stay behind with Carl."

"That's fine."

"So long as you're quiet and don't move, the Walkers should go right past you. Remember that time on the highway, before Hershel's farm?"

Glenn just nodded, already knowing everything Rick was telling him. "Rick. Don't worry about Carl. I'll take care of him. We all will."

Taking a slow breath, Rick nodded. "If things go wrong, and I can't meet up with you again, keep going."

"We will," Glenn promised, understanding.

"Carl won't want to leave, he'll want to stay and look for me. You can't let him. Make sure he gets back to Alexandria."

"I will. Rick, we got this."

Reassured, Rick left him to it, continuing to distribute the extra ammunition and radios. Tossing some spare batteries into the rear of the minivan, he put the knives and a rifle onto the back seat where they could be easily reached.

"You're going with her," Carl stated, sneaking up on Rick. He turned around and braced himself for whatever reaction Carl might have, knowing it was justified. "I heard you telling Glenn."

Rick nodded. "I can't let her go by herself."

"And it has to be you? Can't someone else go?"

"Yes, someone else could go," he said honestly, being upfront. "But it's going to be me."

His jaw clenched, Carl just nodded. In an instant Rick was brought back to their early days in the prison, remembering every time he told Carl that he was leaving again, that he was going on a supply run. The nod he received then was the same he received now. Carl wanted nothing more than to put his arms around his father and force him to stay, to not endanger his life. There was no question that Carl would rather anyone else but Rick go.

"Do not forget our agreement." Grasping his upper arms, Rick made Carl look him in the eye. "That agreement still applies, even if I'm not here."

Carl nodded.

"You are to do as you're told, without question. If Glenn says it's time to go, it's time to go, with or without me. Is that understood?"

Carl just nodded again.

"Do not disappoint me."

"I won't," he promised, his voice tight with emotion. "I know our agreement…we shook on it."

Having said all he needed to, Rick pulled his son to his chest and held him tightly, praying as he often did that this wouldn't be the last time he saw him. There wasn't time to linger, and so they quickly got back to work, Rick passing Carl plenty of spare magazines and a rifle for him to carry. They embraced one last time as everyone started filing into the removal truck, Carl letting Michonne help him climb up into the back.

"Good luck," Daryl said to Rick, clasping him on the shoulder.

"You too. Have you got everything you need?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly, surprising everyone by clasping Carrie's shoulder next. "Happy herding."

Checking that they had everything they needed, Rick and Carrie closed the doors on the removal truck and then headed for the minivan, leaving the others behind. He delayed their departure only long enough to check that they too had everything they needed, worried that they might have forgotten something. There were all the essentials as well as three spare containers of gasoline, just in case they ran into trouble that night.

"We got the flares?"

"Three of them," she answered, hovering by the passenger door as she waited for him. "They're in the glove compartment."

Nervous, he allowed himself a few moments to think about what they were doing before he reluctantly got into the driver's seat. Willingly bringing a herd of Walkers past his group, protected only by silence and the walls of the removal truck, went against every instinct he had. They had been in more dire situations before, and with a pang of fear he remembered the herd that passed them on the highway before Herschel's farm…they had been hidden underneath cars, and those Walkers had simply passed them by. This time they had more protection, and more experience. Everything was going to be fine.

"We're ready, Rick," Carrie insisted.

Nodding, he opened the driver's door and got in, looking at her as she did the same. "Tell me you're as confident as you look…"

"I am."

Only slightly reassured, he started the car and turned it around. Leaving the others behind, he cautiously brought the minivan up the road and over the crest of the hill, once again revealing the scale of the herd they were facing. Seeing them, Carrie swore under her breath, but she didn't look any more perturbed than she already was. Turning on the headlights, he cautiously came closer and closer to the edge of the massive herd, flicking the lights up and down to catch their attention.

"They've spotted us," Carrie commented, one hand gripping her seat.

Simultaneously the Walkers began looking around, their interest aroused by the light and noise of the engine. Coming daringly close, Rick breathed through his mouth as the stench infiltrated the car, making him want to gag. Stopping barely thirty yards from the closest Walkers, Rick laid his hand on the horn, resisting the urge to rev the engine loudly. Gas could not be wasted. Repeatedly pressing the horn, he watched in satisfaction as the Walkers came ambling towards him. Even with the horn blaring and the windows closed, Rick could hear their snarls and moans. Remaining strangely calm, Rick turned the car around again and slowly started heading back, hitting the horn a couple of more times.

"I can't believe we didn't think of this," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the rear vision mirror.

"I can't believe Abraham wanted to drive through it," she laughed at their expense.

Rick chuckled, remembering their disastrous night drive to Alexandria. His paranoia had come back to bite him on the ass, accidentally leading his group straight into a herd that mingled on the road. "That would have been a disaster."

Moving slowly, Rick led the Walkers up and over the hill, he and Carrie keeping a careful watch on the woods and the side of the road, to make sure they didn't accidentally get surrounded. Strumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he watched in the rear vision mirror as the Walkers followed, and he hoped that the notion of them following like a stack of dominos was correct. If they only managed to arouse half of the Walkers into moving they would still be faced with the same problem.

"We're coming past you now," Rick said through the radio a few minutes later. Their progress was slow, and they were finally coming up on the convoy. Running his eyes over the removal truck, he was pleased to see that the formation of the other cars surrounding it would afford them a little more protection.

"Yeah," Abraham scoffed back in reply. "We can bloody smell you."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine in here. Just hurry up and get them gone."

Laying on the horn yet again, Rick moved a little further up the road, still watching the herd's progress. His heart stammered as they engulfed the vehicles, but as he knew they would they kept going, flowing around the obstruction like a stream of water around a rock.

"Looks like we're in for a long night," he commented dryly, putting the radio in the centre console.

"Yeah, we are," Carrie sighed. Taking her hair out of her pony tail she brushed her fingers through it, shifting around and getting comfortable. "First time I did this, I had to drive all day before I found a road to turn off on."

"Which group was that for?" he asked, remembering what she had said about her second. While she had compromised her own safety and well being to protect them, they had not afforded her the same care.

"My second."

"You have company for that drive?"

Predictably, she shook her head. "Just me and Taylor Swift. Do you think the Walkers like Daft Punk?"

"No, they don't," he said firmly, seeing her cheeky expression. She was trying to wind him up, and it worked well.

"Lucky for you that CD is in the other car," she noted, opening the glove compartment. She sorted through some CDs, frowning in annoyance. "What's a Skrillex?"

"No idea."

"Oh, it's techno. You'd love that." Despite her teasing, she carried on looking through the options. "Okay, we've got Peking Duk, Skrillex, Hilltop Hoods or…Internet Friends? Whose music is this?"

"Probably Aidan's…he's known for his poor taste."

Shaking her head, Carrie closed the glove compartment and pulled down the sun visor, giving a sigh of relief. "Thank God…Black Eyed Peas?"

"Tolerable," he shrugged, having never admitted that he actually liked that band.

Reminding himself to concentrate on the Walkers, he applied a little more gas and then let the car coast along down the road, hoping to preserve as much gas as possible. The music started over the sound system as they carried on further down the road, Rick actually beginning to relax a few minutes later. He trusted Carrie's plan, confident from his own experience with Walkers that it would actually work. As the first few minutes of their journey passed in comfortable silence, he found himself stealing glances at her, noticing her body language and the way she sat. Sprawled out in the seat beside him, she looked awfully comfortable while her foot absently bobbed to the beat of the music. As he looked back to the Walkers in the rear view mirror, his stomach clenched when from the corner of his eye he noticed her looking at him now, stealing glances just like he had been.

Feeling bold he caught her eye, amused to see a bashful smile cross her face…she had been checking him out, and was embarrassed to have been caught. He went to say something, to teasingly acknowledge that he had caught her, but the words never left his tongue. A startling realisation came over him, Rick suddenly noticing that something he had spent days hoping for had actually occurred.

Aside from the Walkers, he and Carrie were completely alone.

Will get Chapter 22 out as soon as I can, but it unfortunately needs some work! Reviews appreciated, thanks!


	22. Chapter 22

A/N - Mature warnings apply. Don't like? Skip it. Sorry this took so God damn long.

It was strange for Rick to feel calm and relaxed, a state not so often achieved in this life, but particularly so when there were possibly a thousand Walkers following him. That fact acknowledged, it was difficult to feel anything other than relaxed when Carrie was sitting by his side, her confidence coming with a reassuring quality that was rubbing off on him. She knew her plan would work, and it was, exceedingly well in fact. The Walkers had been following them for almost three hours now, three hours in which not a dull moment had passed.

Having taken the second watch the previous night, Rick was on the verge of exhaustion by now, and while he knew he ought to let Carrie drive while he rested, he didn't want break the atmosphere. Disregarding the herd of Walkers behind them, the minivan had been filled with laughter and teasing for the better part of their journey, and Rick honestly couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed himself this much. He already knew that Carrie was easy to talk to, despite them having little in common, but he was only just coming to realise how well they clicked. In a similar fashion to Lori, Carrie was quick witted and humorous, and it wasn't difficult to enjoy her company.

"My turn," she declared with a smile. "What is your ideal weapon of choice against Walkers?"

"Weapon of choice?" Rick clarified. "Anything at all?"

"Yes."

He considered this for a moment, running through a mental list of guns he had always favoured before branching out a little further. After all, she did say any weapon. Coming to his decision, Rick shook his head negatively. "I'm not telling you. You'll laugh at me."

"Oh come on. Please?"

Scratching his forehead, he looked at her tentatively. "Don't call me a nerd…"

"Cross my heart."

"Alright…A light sabre." The corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk, making Rick's shoulder's slump. "Don't laugh at me, you cannot argue with a light sabre."

"No, I agree," she conceded, shrugging her shoulders. "It's just, if I could choose any weapon at all…I'd have to go with a magic wand. Like Harry Potter."

"That doesn't count," he argued. "It's not a real weapon."

"And a light sabre is?"

"A magic wand wouldn't work. You'd need to be a witch."

"I've been called a witch enough times. Well, no…a bitch is what I've been called."

"I'm starting to see why…"

They laughed together, Rick stomach growing more painful by the minute. Unable to remember the last time he laughed until his stomach hurt, he felt bad for having such a good time. Surely the others who had stayed behind in the removal truck weren't enjoying themselves as much as he was. Cramped up and completely silent, they would be trying to breathe through the stench of the Walkers that passed them by.

"Your turn."

Sighing, Rick tried to think of something. "I can't think of anything. Pass."

"Okay, a difficult question for you," Carrie began, opening the wrapper of a Twinkie. Breaking it in half, she passed him a piece. "Actually, an impossible question."

"Go on," he welcomed her challenge.

"Best Tom Hanks film."

"That's easy," he scoffed. "Forrest Gump."

"Is that your final answer?" she pressed. "What about The Green Mile? Cast Away?"

Pondering this, he looked at her in annoyance. "Damn…that is a hard question."

"I told you."

Still looking at her in annoyance, Rick huffed. "Well let me call it a tie. A tie between A League of Their Own and Forrest Gump."

There was a slight pause, Carrie smiling apprehensively. "Would you hate me if I said I'd never seen A League of Their Own?"

"No. But I would judge you." He rolled his eyes as she burst out laughing, struggling not to smile excessively. "Look, all you need to know from that movie, is that there's no crying in baseball!"

Carrie laughed even harder. "I've never seen it, but I know that line."

Chuckling, he continued. "Forrest Gump taught me how to play Ping Pong," he told her, continuing when she rolled her eyes. "No, I'm serious. I don't want to brag or anything, but I'm practically undefeated."

"Bullshit."

"Just ask Carl."

"Oh, I will ask him," she threatened. "Come on, you don't expect me to believe you're…" Her words trailing off, Carrie turned around in her seat. "They're getting close again."

Looking in the rear vision mirror, Rick saw that she was right. Mentally scolding himself, he realised that neither of them had been paying attention to the Walkers, nor on the woods that surrounded the road. If they didn't pay attention, they could be swarmed from the front and sides if more turned up unexpectedly. Shifting the car into drive, he started easing it forward again, laying on the horn a couple of times to keep them interested. Watching them in the rear view mirror, he was amused by the way the herd seemed to form a V at the front, somewhat like a flock of birds. They were certainly riled up by the car they were pursuing, their movements graceless and urgent. It was a relief that after almost three hours Rick and Carrie had largely grown used to the Walker's presence behind them, their senses slowly growing accustomed to the sound and smell. Yet at the same time, this served as a warning to Rick. If they weren't more attentive, the Walkers would get too close to them without their noticing.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Carrie with curiosity. She was still turned around in her seat, watching the herd as they reached out towards the car in the distance, their growling and snarls fading as their prey got farther away yet again. Letting his eyes wander, they slowly moved down her body, taking in the way she twisted to look at the Walkers. Her tank top was pulled awkwardly, exposing the skin on her hip. Rick looked away as she turned back around and sat properly, looking out the windows to check the woods were still clear.

"How's everything going back there?" Rick asked down the radio, partly to distract himself. There was a short pause before Daryl responded with a whisper.

"We're fine…still waitin' for them to pass."

"They're still moving though, right?"

"Yeah."

Putting the radio back down, Rick came to another stop on the road ahead, leaving enough distance between them and the Walkers to sit comfortably for a few minutes. Checking his watch out of frustration, he saw that it was drawing close to eleven thirty. After three hours they seemed to have only progressed a little over ten miles, meaning they were probably about halfway to Masonry road where they could turn off. There was still a long way for them to go that night, and he was increasingly grateful for her company.

Looking back at Carrie again, Rick tried to ignore the vague sense of guilt he was feeling. When he insisted he come with her tonight, he hadn't really thought about what it would entail. And now there they were…completely alone together…sitting only feet apart. Everything he had been feeling for her, the intense attraction he had spent days trying to ignore, had reared its head again. Maybe he would be alright if she wasn't making him laugh so much, if words didn't flow from each of their mouths as easily as if they'd known each other ten years. It was strange to think, but it felt like Carrie had always been there, that she had always been a part of his group.

The guilt flickered again, part of him feeling like he ought not to be enjoying her company so much. How could he possibly feel like Carrie had always been by his side, when it also felt like Lori had been just a dream, like she was someone else's wife? Despite this guilt, Rick could practically feel Lori over his shoulder, whispering in his ear telling him to go for it. Should one of them die, they had always wanted the other to find happiness once again, to remarry and carry on. But this wasn't what Rick was doing…but surely being with Carrie would bring a certain level of happiness to his life. Sleeping with her sure would, of that he was certain.

His mind trailing off again, he looked her up and down, trying not to make it too obvious that he was checking her out. With the heat on in the car they had both taken off their jackets, Carrie wearing only her orange tank top and those black yoga pants that should be illegal. God, they looked so good on her. The desire to reach over and kiss her was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, and Rick wondered how much longer he would last before making a fool of himself by trying. There was a lingering ache in the base of his throat, his lips tingling every time he thought about kissing her. He knew he could do it…that she was waiting for him to act.

"Alright, another actor question," she said, rousing him from his thoughts. She caught him staring at her, but she didn't say anything. "Best Robert DeNiro film."

Raising his eyebrows, Rick grew serious. "You talkin' to me?"

She laughed again, her face lighting up. Clearing her throat, she matched Rick's expression. "Then who the hell else are you talkin' to?"

"I've got a harder one for you. Best Robin Williams film."

Carrie shook her head. "Impossible…You decide."

"Mrs Doubtfire," he said with certainty. "No question."

"What?"

"Robin Williams in drag. It does not get better than that."

"No," she groaned in annoyance. "What about Good Will Hunting? One Hour Photo? The Bird Cage?"

"Mrs Doubtfire," he insisted. "I'll see Dead Poet's Society as a close second."

She sighed. "I've never seen that one either. I guess I just didn't watch as much television as you did."

Rick chuckled, sensing the teasing tone in her voice. "The was nothing else to do on the graveyard shift."

Carrie raised an eyebrow at this. "You watched television on duty?"

"Hell yes," he nodded. "Not much happened in King County after midnight, but we still had to be on duty. We'd do some rounds in the cruiser, catch a few vandals on a Friday night, but other than that it was television or a game of pool."

"Sounds like hard work."

"Lori loved it," he said, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them. He mentally kicked himself…why was he bringing up Lori?

"Why's that?"

"She had to bed to herself," he replied quickly, his thumb automatically touching the underside of his wedding ring. "Plus I was always home in time to get Carl ready and to take him to school, so she got to sleep in too."

"Sounds good to me," she mused. "Alright…what was your favourite cable show?"

"Breaking Bad."

She gasped in astonishment. "You watched Breaking Bad? Wasn't that frowned upon for police?"

Laughing, he nodded his head. "Our department was err…strongly discouraged from affiliating ourselves with that show. But come on," he appealed. "Any show that can make a cop root for the homicidal meth cook deserves to be watched."

"You liked Walt?"

"You didn't?"

"Well sure, at first…when he had cancer, and was broke. You could understand his motivation."

"But not later?"

"No way. He completely went off the rails."

Rick smiled to himself. "Breaking Bad was my guilty pleasure. It just kept getting better and better." Sighing to himself, he shifted the car into drive and started heading forward again, putting some more distance between them and the Walkers. "That's the one thing I'll never let go of…never seeing season five."

"That was the last one they were making, right?"

"I think so. I'll never know how it ended." With a sigh, he looked at her curiously. "Yours?"

"Mad Men. Old school advertising…I called it professional development. Next question."

Pausing, Rick thought of one question that usually got people squirming. "Have you ever broken the law?"

Just as he expected, her eyes widened. "I'm not telling a cop that!"

"It's alright, I'm off duty."

"Fine," she muttered, not looking too reassured. "I've never broken the law."

"You've never even exceeded the speed limit? Driven after a few drinks?"

Fiddling with her hair, she finally answered. "I almost got a speeding ticked once…I sweet talked my way out of it."

"Oh, is that so?"

"It is."

"And that's all?"

"Yes! Do I look like a common criminal to you?"

"Do I?"

"Are you?"

He shrugged. "Technically speaking, yes…"

"Technically speaking?"

"It doesn't count if you were never arrested."

This aroused her interest. Turning in her seat, Carrie faced him head on. "Tell me…please."

"Technically speaking, I'm guilty of burglary."

She narrowed her eyes. "Liar," she accused. "You wouldn't be a common burglar."

"I was once," he grinned, revelling in the secret. "I've never told a single person. Not Lori, not even Shane really."

"Go on then, tell me."

"I preferred to see it as returning stolen goods to their rightful owner. When Lori and I got married, Shane started thinking about settling down too. He proposed to this woman he was seeing, Ashley Myer."

"Mmm."

"You know that saying, that you should spend three month's salary on an engagement ring? Shane took it seriously," he laughed. "The ring he gave Ashley must have cost him a fortune, especially for a rookie cop. Anyway, a few months later she left him for someone else, and she wouldn't give the ring back."

"Oh," Carrie grinned, seeing where the story was going.

"Shane was devastated and broke. So I did what any best friend would do. I sent him to a bar to get piss drunk, and then I took the ring back."

"Rick Grimes!" she said in astonishment. "Shame on you!"

"She's the one who was dumb enough to leave a spare key under her mat," he said defensively. "It took her three weeks to notice it was missing, and when she came in to report it, who was on desk duty?"

"You?"

He shook his head. "Shane."

"Uh oh."

"She accused him, of course. But he didn't have it. He let our boss search his house, his car, his locker…but she couldn't even say when it was stolen. Couple months later when all the fuss died down, I gave the ring back to him. He sold it to a friend of his cousin's, and then blew the cash in Vegas."

"And he didn't say anything to you?"

Rick shook his head. "I gave it to him, and then turned on the Super Bowl. We never spoke about it. If that ever got out, I'd have lost my job."

"I can't believe it," Carrie said slowly. "Rick Grimes, a common burglar."

He just shrugged. "I prefer to think of it as a Robin Hood type of crime."

"Just without the tights?"

"Yeah."

Carrie tucked her feet up underneath her, scanning her eyes around the sides of the road again. "My engagement ring was excessive too. Logan came from a wealthy family like me. I think giving me a massive diamond was more important than being a good husband."

"Massive?" Rick questioned.

"Four carats" she said in embarrassment. "I loved it of course, but God I hated it too. Whenever I walked down the street, I had to turn it into my palm so no one could see it. I was paranoid about being mugged. I wanted to throw it in the Hudson when we got divorced. I didn't though…I sold it. My wedding ring too. Gave some of the money to a homeless shelter, New York had plenty of those, and then went hiking in the Grand Canyon."

"Hiking in the Grand Canyon?" he questioned in awe.

She smiled, clearly remembering one hell of an adventure. "It was the best…I took my vacation time from work and booked into a group hike."

"What happened with you and him? Logan?" he asked, the man's name feeling awkward to say.

"He cheated on me…more than once. Like I said, he was more concerned about being extravagant than being a decent husband."

"He sounds like an idiot," he bluntly told her.

Her expression changed, and she looked a little shy now. "I thought so too."

Curious to learn more, Rick continued. "When did all tha-"

"No, no," she shook her head, looking back at him. "You've had two questions now. It's my turn."

"Alright."

Taking a slow breath, Carrie thought about this. "What's your…biggest regret?"

Surprised by this, Rick gave an uncomfortable laugh. "That's pretty deep for a Wednesday night."

"I don't know what day it is," she shrugged, looking at him expectantly.

Sighing, Rick removed the handbrake and started forward again. Heading further down the road, he checked the odometer to keep track of how far they had gone, seeing that still hadn't made much more progress. Checking the fuel gauge, he was annoyed to see that they had already used half the tank…perhaps they didn't start with as much as they thought. Coming to a stop further down the road, he looked in the rear vision mirror. With nothing else to distract their attention, the Walkers just kept coming.

"I'll tell you a regret," he agreed, meeting her halfway. "But not my biggest regret."

"I'll take it," she said, turning around in her seat to look at him.

Putting the car into park, he flexed his jaw before answering, wishing she had asked him something else. Three hours had passed and they hadn't touched on anything serious.

"I regret how I handled Shane," he confessed. "That I ended up killing him."

There was a short pause before Carrie responded, and he could tell she was surprised. "You've brought Shane up twice now…I thought you didn't talk about him."

He gave a short laugh, knowing this was out of character. "Don't tell on me."

"Why do you regret killing him?" she asked. "Sounded to me like you didn't have much choice."

"No, I didn't. Not when he had a gun on me at least…but I did have a choice before that. I should have packed him a bag and told him to fuck off," he explained. How many times in the past eighteen months had he pictured this scenario in his mind? How many times had he pretended that's what he really did…that Shane was still alive somewhere. "I wanted to do it, but I felt like I owed him."

"Even after what happened with Lori?"

He hesitated before answering this, glancing into the rear view mirror. "If he hadn't told her I was dead, she would have stayed in King County with me," he sighed. "So yeah, I owed him."

"I don't know if I could be that forgiving," she softly confessed.

Rick shook his head. "I never said anything about forgiving him."

"Understanding?"

He shook his head again. "No…I was resigned to it, I guess." He restlessly scratched his jaw, his fingernails scraping the short growth of hair. "Your turn now. What's your biggest regret?"

Sensing his desire to change the subject, she answered without hesitation. "I regret not having children when I had the chance."

"That's a big regret," he commented, surprised she shared that with him. "Why didn't you?"

"Logan and I, we had the opportunity, we had enough money. But I had something to prove."

"Which was?"

"That I was more than a rich kid with a trust fund," she said. "People used to joke that I'd never have to work a day in my life, that I could just find a rich husband and be his arm candy."

"You wanted to prove them wrong?"

She nodded. "It didn't help my case that I married someone like Logan. But, I made sure I got into an Ivy League school, and then I made a damn good career for myself. I kept telling myself that I had plenty of time to have children…and then I got divorced."

"And then this?" he asked, gesturing out the window.

"Yeah. So that's my biggest regret…Thinking I had more time."

He looked at her in astonishment, what she had just said slowly sinking in. For a startling moment he remembered clinging to that damn telephone in the prison's boiler room, desperately hanging on to the sound Lori's voice. He remembered what he had told her, how sorry he was for thinking they had more time. It was startling to hear those words coming out of someone else's mouth, as though Carrie had insight into his mind. Unexpectedly he felt a sudden rush of affection for her, and he wondered when breathing became something he had to consciously do.

"What?" she asked, not understanding.

"You're taking the words right out of my mouth," he told her, looking her in the eye.

"About regrets?"

"Yes," he whispered, unconsciously leaning closer. "That's my biggest regret too. I always thought I'd have more time for things…especially after the outbreak."

She returned his gaze, feeling the intensity of it. Sitting there in the car, little more than a foot apart, Rick knew he wanted her desperately, growing more and more determined to have her. Though he clenched his fist to stop himself reaching out to her, he decided then and there that he was going to do it. His gut feeling was good…she wanted this too. And there was no one there to distract them. No Daryl, no Aidan…no Carl. They were completely alone. Whether he made a fool of himself or not, he was doing this…

To his disappointment, Carrie suddenly looked away, her eyes falling on the dashboard clock. "It's almost midnight," she commented, her voice a soft whisper. Looking back at him, her lips parted, and she too began to lean closer. "I didn't get you anything for your birthday."

Laughing shortly, he forced himself to relax. He could do this…there was nothing to would stop him now. Unconsciously licking his lips, he shifted in the seat, bringing himself closer to her. "I didn't tell you what I wanted."

"What do you want?"

He paused slightly, wanting this moment to last. Waiting patiently for him to act, Carrie looked him in the eye as he reached his hand for the back of her neck. Winding his fingers into her hair, he finally took what he wanted by lightly pressing his lips to hers, their eyes flickering closed. As though a switch had been flicked on inside her, Carrie gratefully returned his kiss, coaxing a soft moan from the base of his throat. Her soft lips were enticing, reminding him of the first time he had kissed her in the guard tower. Except unlike then, they weren't stumbling drink. This was very real, and exactly what he had been waiting for.

Feeling her smile against his lips, he was compelled to draw the tip of his tongue against her flesh, yearning for even more of her. When her mouth fell open he accepted the invitation, feeling as though he had been starved of her. He supposed he had. Days of torturing himself by avoiding her and then almost kissing her, only to have the moment stolen had only furthered the urgency he felt. The wait was worth it though…how could it not be when he slipped his tongue into her sweet mouth, relishing the alluring caresses of hers?

Heavy sighs escaped each of them as they kissed languidly, taking the time to bask in one another, to enjoy the moment. They soon broke apart, panting for breath as they pressed their foreheads together. Swallowing heavily, Rick pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, watching as it curved into a tentative smile.

"Took you long enough."

Grinning, he nodded in agreement. "I couldn't wait anymore," he rasped, enjoying the feel of her breath against his lips.

"What stopped you?"

Her question was tinged with insecurity, and Rick knew he had been sending her mixed signals. "Carl," he apologised.

She nodded, understanding. "And now?"

"Carl's not here." Leaving it at that, he made to kiss her again, his heart falling when she turned slightly to avoid it. "Carrie?"

She nuzzled the shell of his ear as she spoke. "Move your seat back."

It took a moment for him to figure out what she was getting at, his eyes widening when he realised. His mind blissfully void of any other thought, he pulled away and fumbled with the lever on his seat, pushing it back as instructed. Blood rushed to a certain part of his body as she awkwardly climbed across the centre console, his hands gripping his seat as he tried not to reach out for her. Her initiative was so casual Rick wondered if she knew how seductive it was, if she had any idea of how she was affecting him. Judging by the way she bumped her head on the ceiling, laughing at herself as she settled her knees on either side of his lap, she had no idea.

For a long moment they barely touched, Carrie hovering over him as they looked at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move. There was little room for them both, her body invading his personal space in the most arousing way. She was so close, and yet aside from her weight across his lap they were barely touching. Remedying that, Rick looked her in the eye as he reached up and placed his hands behind her knees, slowly running them up the back of her legs. The thin yoga pants she wore left little to the imagination, and he breathed out as he felt the shape of her body reveal itself beneath his palms. As he rubbed his hands over the curve of her ass, Carrie shivered and bent her head down to him, taking his lips in a deep kiss.

Fuelled by lust, he shifted forward in the seat and tentatively pulled her down against him, her lips drowning out his groan of relief. The gentle pressure against the front of his jeans felt better than he had imagined, the sensation flourishing again as she pressed herself down harder. His head lolled forward onto her shoulder, his fingers digging into her ass as his mind began to run away with him. If that's how good she felt rocking against him fully clothed, how good would she feel naked? How would her hands feel wrapped around him? Her lips…tongue…

Feeling her shudder against him, he pulled her face back down to his and resumed their former kiss, not holding back. Desperate for all of her at once, he slipped his tongue back into her mouth, the kiss growing harder and more demanding. Reciprocating eagerly, she trailed her hands down his neck and sought out the buttons on his shirt, clumsily tugging them open. They were panting for breath, pulling at one another to get closer, deeper, trying to satiate the desire coursing through their bodies. As her fingers blazed a burning hot path down his chest and she rubbed against him again and again, Rick felt his mind floating.

"Rick," she whispered, her voice shaking. Breaking their kiss, she stopped her movements and rested her forehead against his, shuddering for breath. "Rick…"

He froze beneath her in trepidation, thinking she wanted to stop already. Disappointment filled him, knowing that she was the only thing that would have made him stop right then, and she had. With haste he removed his hands from her, releasing the hair tangled in his fingers.

"No," she breathed, reassuring him. "I didn't say stop."

Despite this, he was hesitant for a moment, not wishing to do anything she didn't want right now. Explaining herself she reached down and began pulling her tank top up and over her head, her hair cascading down over her shoulders as she cast it aside. Stunned, Rick held his breath as he looked down her body, his mind stalled as his eyes drank in everything she was offering. Ten days ago when he had patted her down for weapons her ribs had been stark beneath his hands, but tonight they were less so, ten days of solid meals helping her recover a little. Her body slowly filling out again, her stomach smooth and soft as he daringly brushed his fingers against it. Prompting him, she took his bottom lip between her teeth, sucking on it leisurely before letting it go with a wet pop.

The desperation that he had momentarily ignored came back in full force, Rick's hands returning to her body, trying to remember the line of what he was being offered. His movements were tentative at first, gentle caresses here and there to gauge her reaction. He knew what men had done to her in the past, that they had forced themselves on her, taking her body as though they owned it. Not wanting to do that, he restrained himself even though she displayed no outward signs of disagreement. In fact she seemed impatient with him, swiftly capturing his hand and placing it on her breast. Her forwardness was reassuring, as was the soft groan she made as he eagerly cupped her though the fabric of her bra.

With a long sigh she rested her head on his shoulder, slipping her hand back inside his shirt to rub the planes of his chest, exploring anything she could reach. She started grinding herself against him again, Rick gasping for breath as the sensations flooded his body. Grabbing her hip, he encouraged her to keep going, The friction made his head go crazy with lust, his erection was aching with need as he tried to distract himself, wanting this to last longer than one minute. This was exactly what he had wanted, to have her body lustfully pressed up against his, finding pleasure and relief in one another. Taking a chance, he hooked the strap of her bra under his finger and dragged it down her shoulder, pulling the cup of fabric down too.

Shaking a little, he traced his fingers over the swell of her breast, brushing over her nipple before cupping it in his palm. Squeezing it gently, he revelled in how unbelievably soft it was, smiling when she arched forward into his hand. Heaving for breath, Carrie straightened up and wound one of her hands into his hair, dragging his attention from her breast back to her lips. She kissed him hungrily, her tongue brushing his before she pulled back. A slight push to his head was the only indication he needed, the motion a clear offer. Moistening them first, Rick sealed his lips around her nipple, his tongue lazily brushing over it as he gave a gentle suck. Her reaction was instant, Carrie's body shuddering through a soft moan as her fingers dug into his scalp, holding him there. Enjoying her reaction, Rick sought to elicit more moans from her, wanting to hear that sound again.

"Fuc…" she sighed loudly, her voice trailing off. Still rocking against the front of his jeans, her legs began to shake.

She was pliant beneath his hands, one on her breast and the other on her lower back, keeping up the rhythm. Pulling down the other strap of her bra, he greedily licked and kissed her other breast too, sucking on the spot so that a mark would form. He wanted her to see it, to remember that he had been the one to leave it on her. Her reactions were perfect, exactly what he was looking to draw out of her. Praying that it was the right move, he slid his hand down her stomach and pressed his palm between her legs.

There was a notable pause, all the breath escaping her lungs as she looked down at him. Uneasy, he waited for her reaction, nervous that he had gone too far for her comfort. His nerves were short lived however, a shaky smile crossing her face a second later. Aiding him, she took his hand in hers and moved it a little higher, showing him what she wanted. Air hissed between her teeth as he started rubbing, watching her expressions as he began to learn what she liked. He eagerly returned his mouth to her breasts, savouring every moment.

Her breath coming in hot pants against his scalp, Carrie wound her arms around him, her chest heaving as she began to shudder. Knowing better than to stop, he focused his eyes on her face and watched attentively. Faster than either of them expected, a garbled version of his name slipped from her lips as she came, her fingertips digging into where she held him. Her brow was pinched in a frown, her mouth agape and begging to be kissed. Obliging, Rick swallowed the last of her gasps in a deep kiss, loving the way she squirmed in his lap.

Completely breathless, Carrie broke their kiss and clumsily pushed his hand away, the sensations too much now. Letting her slowly come down from her high, he held her delicately, following her lead as she buried her face in his neck. He pressed his open mouth to the side of her throat, inhaling deeply. Like him, she hadn't bathed since they left the prison, and he breathed in the all too familiar smell of sweat. He wasn't surprised that this only made him want her more, and while for now he tried to ignore his own needs, he ran his palms up and down her lower back.

As though awaking with a start, Carrie raised her head and grinned down at him, her hair cascading over her shoulders. She coaxed his lips back to hers for a slow, sweet kiss. "Rick," she half laughed, her breath teasing his lips. "God…"

"Yeah," he echoed her sentiment. They had paused just long enough for him to get his head together, for what they were doing to sink in. He felt no flicker of guilt, only the acute satisfaction of finally getting what he wanted, what they both wanted.

Without preamble, Carrie shifted back in his lap and reached down to his duty belt, fumbling with the buckle to get it undone.

"You don't have to," he said automatically, though he prayed to God that she would. "Carrie?"

"I know," she smiled. Planting a swift kiss on his lips, she hurriedly pulled the end of his duty belt through the buckle, trying to release it. Teasing him, she pressed her palm against the bulge in his jeans, making his eyes roll in his head.

His head falling back, Rick closed his eyes as she rubbed the front of his jeans, clenching his jaw as he tried to restrain himself. Trembling, he pushed her hand away and took a deep breath, her touch quickly becoming too much to bear. With a devilish smile she sought his lips again and kissed him hungrily. Biting the swell of his bottom lip, she tugged and pulled at the leather duty belt, the weight of it falling back onto the seat. Knowing what she was going to do only made the wait that much more unbearable…he wanted her now. No, he wanted her days ago, right there in the guard tower before Daryl had interrupted them, in the cell block when they had kissed again. Now that they had waited for so long, Rick couldn't help but wonder how far she was willing to go that night.

Would she want to have sex? He wondered how he was supposed to gauge this, considering how best to read her. Should he ask outright? Yes, he decided…if they went much further, he needed to ask outright. He had to be sure, they had to be…but in a moment of horror he realised they didn't have any condoms. He wanted to scream at this realisation, disappointment flooding him. When he had joined her that night it hadn't been his intention that they end up sleeping together, nor that they would even kiss. Maybe she wouldn't care. God, if she didn't care, then he didn't care either. They'd risk it…he'd risk anything to sleep with her.

Her hands tugging and fumbling at the waistband of his jeans, Carrie pulled back and squinted down at her hands. She growled in annoyance now, her fingers brushing the skin of his lower stomach.

"Jesus, Rick," she groaned. "How many belts are you wearing?"

He laughed at this, remembering Lori cursing him for the same reason on many occasions. To his surprise, the thought of Lori didn't arouse feelings of guilt or betrayal, even as another woman was trying to get his jeans open. The memory of her only served to make him feel content, to reassure him of something…he wasn't quite sure what, but he'd take it. Apologising against Carrie's lips, he reached for his regular belt himself, eagerly anticipating what she would do next. She would use her hands, that much was for sure…but what else? Would she use -

Loud thuds broke them from their thoughts, the entire car rocking perilously as something hit them. There was a moment of disorientation, his mind wrenching itself from its current state of arousal and back to reality. The car rocked again, and Rick hastily grasped what was happening, the critical factor he had overlooked in favour of selfish desires. A heavy mass of rotting faces were pressing themselves up against the minivan, Walkers snarling and clawing at the windows as they quickly engulfed them.

In seconds the minivan was surrounded.

A/N - I'm sorry about the long wait, but this chapter needed so much work, as do the next few chapters. That said, 23 is looking pretty chill, so I'll post that after I watch episode 2 of the new season. (I seriously just realised what day it is, and now I'm dancing). I love any and all feedback and reviews, they're warm fuzzies! Thanks for reading guys.


	23. Chapter 23

Circumstances changed quickly, Carrie knew that all too well. It was an inevitable fact of this world that whenever they got too comfortable, something came along to break them out of it, to remind them of reality. There was rarely any warning, particularly when Walkers were concerned, but what what they were doing that night their situation could not be blamed on the cruel world.

Irresponsible was the word that best described that night. Irresponsible to allow themselves to be distracted. Irresponsible to let their guard down, even for a moment. No amount of desire was going to make the herd of Walkers disappear or slow down, and their lack of attention to the danger made themselves easy targets for it. Having grown used to the sound and smell, Rick and Carrie allowed themselves to become complacent, ignoring everything that should have warned them that the Walkers were closing in.

When it was already too late, Rick and Carrie experienced a moment of sheer panic, freezing as the impact of what they had done hit them. Masses of rotting bodies eagerly clawed and bit the exterior of the minivan, looking at them through the windows. Their growls were horrifyingly loud, demonstrating just how caught up in each other they had been…how could they have been so distracted they didn't hear that?

Acting without thinking, Carrie threw herself off Rick and collapsed back into her seat, accidentally elbowing the horn as she went. The loud sound only startled them more, riling up the Walkers as the exterior of the minivan groaned under the pressure, but Rick reacted swiftly. Putting it back into gear, he hit the gas hard, the engine roaring as it worked against the volume of Walkers. With more luck than they deserved, the minivan surged forward through the Walkers, the herd yet to surround them more than one or two deep at the front. Easing off the gas for a moment, he let the Walker's own weight work against them, and Carrie watched as they toppled back over one another.

Thrown back in her seat when Rick hit the gas again, Carrie could only hang on as he sharply turned the wheel left and right, the minivan bouncing as it drove straight over the fallen bodies, catching a stray one across the hood. With a loud thud is rolled up and over the hood and came to a rest across the windscreen, it's arms and legs flailed about as it looked Carrie in the eye. Oblivious to the fact that it was on top of a now fast moving vehicle, the Walker pounded its hands against the glass, what was left of its jaw opening and closing in anticipation of devouring her.

She gave a shout of surprise, her body lurching forward onto the dashboard as Rick slammed on the brakes. Forgetting about the glass between them, Carrie cringed in anticipation of the Walker's bite, but she looked up just in time to see it roll off the hood and bounce onto the road in front of them. Carrie and Rick sat there in shock, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he panted for breath.

"Holy shit," Carrie whispered, turning around in her seat and looking behind them.

There was only darkness to see, the Walkers left far behind. A long moment passed in absolute silence, Carrie's breath stuck in her throat as she watched the darkness and waited. Feeling cold, she remembered she had taken off her tank top, that she wore only her bra and yoga pants. Now that the immediate danger had passed, her brain began to recollect itself, and she remembered everything that had transpired, the passionate activity that had been interrupted. Her hands trembling, she searched around for her tank top, thanking him as Rick found it first. Pulling it back on, Carrie wound her arms around herself in a hug, wishing she could stop shaking, that her heart would stop pounding. For the second time tonight she felt her eyes begin to moisten with tears, but it was not from laughter this time.

"Hey," Rick said softly, seeing her state. Reaching out, he took one of her hands and squeezed it comfortingly. "It's alright now…we're fine."

She tried to nod in agreement, she really did, but instead Carrie found herself reaching for the door handle instead. Needing to get out of the very thing protecting her, she opened the door and practically fell out, stumbling upright as she gulped in the cold night air, the stench of the Walkers settling in the back of her throat once again. How on earth had they missed that? How could they have possibly been so caught up that they endangered everyone's lives so recklessly? She wanted to burst into disbelieving laughter, needing something that would relieve the tightness of her chest, so it was possibly a good thing that she was still struggling to catch her breath.

Hearing the other door open, Carrie looked around only long enough to note that Rick too was getting out of the car, taking care of the Walker on the road whose arms still flailed about. Turning away from him, she crouched down low and focused her attention inward. Exhaling for as long as she possibly could, she forced her lungs to empty before breathing back in through her nose, feeling the oxygen help calm her. While her eyes darted around her immediate vicinity, keeping watch like she should have been five minutes ago, she took a few moments to reassess, to get her mind back on track. The night was uncomfortably cold, more so given that she wasn't wearing a jacket, but Carrie revelled in it. Feeling the temperature stinging her skin, she felt alert and ready.

Slowly rising, she breathed through her nose and looked back at Rick, finding him hovering a few feet away. Feeling much more level headed allowed her to give him the nod of reassurance that he was clearly seeking, indicating that she was alright. He on the other hand…the look of distress on his face was one she hadn't seen since Carl had been shot. Nervously glancing back down the road, Rick's chest was still heaving as he shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, his hand restlessly playing with the strap on his gun holster.

"That was…" she started to say, quickly forgetting where she had been going.

"Yeah," he concluded nonspecifically. He glanced at her now, his eyes flicking up and down before he turned back to the road behind. "They're still coming," he commented, though she suspected it was more for his benefit than hers.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence now, the two of them still absorbing what had happened, or more correctly what they had allowed to happen. Their carelessness was the elephant in the room, both of them seeing the risk they had brought not just upon themselves, but the others. Luck had been kinder than they deserved…if they hadn't gotten out of there alive, the herd would have stopped moving down the road, likely settling down around the other cars they had behind, around their people.

"Carrie, we…" he began breathlessly, his voice unsteady. He didn't look at her as he spoke. "We cannot tell anyone what just happened."

She knew what he was getting at. "I was just thinking that."

"And we can't let it happen again."

"No," she readily agreed.

He nodded, muttering something under his breath that she couldn't hear. He stopped shifting his weight now, standing still and at attention like he normally did. As though watching a renewed sense of calm wash over him, she noticed his shoulders relaxing a little, his tense body language beginning to relax. The immediate danger was over, and she privy to his realisation of this. He lingered for a moment longer, his gaze still focused on the road before he finally looked back at her.

"We should get back in," he muttered, gesturing to the minivan.

Thoroughly agreeing, Carrie wordlessly walked back to the car, her footsteps slow and measured despite how cold she was. Walking as though he too wasn't quite sure what to do now, Rick followed and they each resumed their seats. The interior light slowly died as Rick closed his door, basking them back into darkness except for the dashboard and the road ahead of them. They sat in silence for now, both of them starting straight ahead as the silence engulfed them. Carrie wanted to say something, anything….but words failed her when they so often did not. Instead she busied herself with finding her jacket, twisting around and leaning into the back seat to find it. Her elbow brushed Rick's as she reached for her jacket, and while she thought she could feel his eyes on her in that moment, he was pointedly looking the other way when she sat back in her seat.

"Rick?" she said, rousing his attention.

He looked around quickly, a flash of relief crossing his face when he saw she was holding his jacket. "Thanks," he said, taking it from her and putting it on.

Getting back to it, Rick began flashing the headlights, laying his palm on the horn as they anxiously waited for the Walkers to get close again. Although the logic of self preservation dictated otherwise, Carrie knew he was waiting to see how fast they were going, if they had lost any interest due to their hasty departure from the vicinity. For a few moments they had disappeared from the herd's sight, and although they had caught up, the speed of their approach was still of concern.

Taking a deep breath to steady his voice, he picked up the radio and checked on the others. "Daryl, is everything okay back there?"

"Same as it was when you asked twenty minutes ago…sound like they're slowing up a bit though."

"Shit," Rick muttered, wondering how much they ought to read into that. He looked at her in worry, flexing his jaw. "Get the flare gun from the glove compartment."

Taking it out, Carrie weighed the weapon in her hands and then turned on the interior light. Observing it's features, she was reassured that she knew how to use it. "I'll do the flares, you should fire some rounds. The sound will be better to speed up the Walkers at the back."

Nodding in agreement, Rick put the car back into gear and brought them a little further down the road, giving them some more room to work with. They looked before opening their doors, practicing the caution they should have been practicing five minutes ago. Shining his flashlight on the approaching herd, she was relieved to see that they were once again coming at them at good speed, that they had reformed the comical V shape like a flock of birds.

"Daryl. We're going to fire a flare and some shots."

"Okay."

Hearing Daryl's grunted reply, Carrie pointed the flare gun high and aimed it down the road, facing the direction the Walkers would be going. She fired without hesitation, the flare louder and brighter than she had anticipated. Squinting against the bright light, she watched as the flare rose high into the night sky, a trail of sparks illuminating its path as it gracefully rose and then fell. On the other side of the minivan Rick began firing, the sound echoing through the peaceful night as he emptied the chamber of his Colt. There was a short pause, the sound of the Walker's intensifying as their excitement escalated, soon drowned out as Rick quickly fired six more shots. Carrie's ears were ringing by the time he stopped, her heart pounding wildly.

"That got their attention," Daryl voice came down the radio, telling them exactly what they needed to hear.

Ushering her to get back in, Rick lingered a moment longer before joining her in the car. "Good. We'll check in with you again later."

Putting the radio back into the centre console, Rick let out a long sigh and wearily rubbed his face before starting forward again. They quickly fell back into the same pattern as before, although this time without the laughter and conversation. Instead they now sat in silence, both of them still absorbing the impact of their near death experience. She understood why Rick hadn't told the others, knowing it would only worry them, but when they saw the state of the minivan tomorrow morning, there would be no denying it. One of the smaller windows in the very back had shattered, and aside for the blood and gore that had been smeared all over the car, there were sure to be damage to the exterior.

Sitting back, Carrie tried to relax. Even with the heater turned up high, a cold breeze was creeping in upon them from the broken window, making it difficult to get comfortable. An hour passed in silence as they kept a vigilant watch, not letting the Walkers get close again. Although she was focused and hyperaware, Carrie found her thoughts drifting back to Rick with alarming frequency, unable to ignore him sitting beside her…how did he manage to look so damn attractive even with a frown on his face?

He sat like he often did while driving, with his elbow resting on the window sill, his thumb absently touching itself against each of his fingers in turn. It was a habit he engaged in often, his hand occasionally coming over to stroke the coarse hair on his jaw. Thinking about this, Carrie raised her hand and touched the skin around her lips, realising it was a little sore. Kissing without abandon, she had of course noticed the scratching sensation of his facial hair against her lips, against her cheek…it brought another element to the sensuality of his kiss, enamouring her even more.

"Sorry about that," he said suddenly, breaking her from her thoughts. He was watching as her fingers traced the skin under her lip.

She managed a laugh, knowing he must have been watching her as much as she was watching him. Feeling like a love struck teenager, she pictured the two of them stealing glances while the other wasn't looking, both of them knowing they shouldn't be. "I've never kissed a man with a beard before," she commented, touching her lower lip now.

He echoed her laugh, looking a little embarrassed. "This isn't much of a beard."

"That's right…I heard yours was pretty fierce at one stage. Michonne described it as wild."

"Did she now?" he muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Well anyway, beard rash is bad enough on your lips, but…"

"But what?" she pressed, sensing he was trailing off in embarrassment.

Hesitating, he glanced at her. "It's dirty…"

"Go on."

Hesitating again, he tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Beard rash is worse when it's between your legs…or so I've heard."

She burst out laughing, amused by the tentative way he shared the dirty remark. While what he said was amusing, it was also painfully arousing, Carrie unable to not picture the scenario in which she would get beard rash between her legs. Looking at him with a smirk, she replied. "Worse, but oh so worth it."

Laughing too, Rick nodded with a grin, glancing at her with a distinct glint in his eye. She could tell he was thinking the same thing as her, and she was quickly brought back to their earlier activities, thinking about how good it felt to have his hands on her. But before she could dwell on it much longer she reminded herself not to go down that path…not now, not tonight. The risk they'd taken had nearly killed them. An hour had passed since that moment, and she had no desire at all to revisit it.

"Everything alright?" she asked, his dark expression not particularly reassuring.

Readjusting his grip on the steering wheel, Rick tentatively shook his head, looking unsure of himself. "We should have passed Masonry road by now…we should have passed it a long time ago."

"We've been going pretty slowly."

"We've been at it nearly five hours now."

"Maybe we missed it," she suggested, suspecting they had gone too far. When they had checked in with Daryl ten minutes ago, their connection had been poor, his voice coming through the radio in bits and pieces. "Earlier when we were…maybe we drove past it by accident."

"Maybe," he agreed half heartedly, looking particularly stressed. "We just need to find the next intersection and figure out where we are."

Agreeing, Carrie suspected she knew the internal conflict that was raging. Not knowing where they wasn't too big of a deal while ever they were still leading the herd, but they'd eventually have to turn off the main road in order to let them pass. They didn't have enough gas to lead them all night, not when they needed to double back to Rock Hill to meet up with the others. If they turned off the road and didn't know where they were, they ran the risk of getting lost or having to sit and wait for the herd to pass. Given the distance they were slowly covering, that could take more than a few hours. Daryl and the others might be forced to leave without them.

The longer they continued leading the herd away, the further apart from their group they became…if it took longer than they expected and they ran out of gas, things would be very bad. She had heard what Rick told Glenn, that if something went wrong the rest of the group were to continue forward. She understood his reasons, supporting his instructions, but the possibility that they might be left behind lingered in the back of her mind.

Slowing down to another stop, Rick checked his rounds before getting out to top up the gas. While he headed to the trunk of the car, Carrie stretched her limbs and twisted around at the waist, taking the opportunity to do so while she had the chance. Pulling her jacket higher up on her neck, she rubbed her hands together and watched as her breath appeared as a cloud in front of her face. It was awfully cold that night, the cool breeze biting at the exposed skin on her lower legs, neck and face.

"How much have we got left?"

"Below a quarter of a tank," he replied, pouring the gasoline in using a funnel. "And about four gallons to top up with."

"It will be okay,' she said, more for her own benefit than his.

Giving a short laugh, Rick looked at her and shook his head. "This car does not run on optimism," he muttered.

Waiting patiently, Carrie kept watch over the approaching herd, longing for this whole thing to just be over already. She wanted fresh air, to be able to breath deeply and not feel a pang of revulsion in the base of her throat. But she knew all too well that Walker stench had a habit of seeping into your pores, even when not in direct contact. Thinking of the first time she had led a herd away from where her group was living, a long day just herself and Taylor Swift, she had to count herself lucky she at least had company. With Rick by her side, the burden of their situation was shared, and there was someone to act as a sounding board.

"Rick," she said, pointing to the herd. They were less than a hundred yards away now. "We should go."

Not finished with the gas, he reluctantly agreed. Throwing the containers back into the trunk, some empty and some still full, they raced back into their seats and started the engine again. Moving a little further up the road, they stopped a second time to finish topping up the gas, Carrie trying the radio again. Just as before she could hardly hear Daryl's voice, his reply to them coming in bits and pieces. Despite this it was a reassurance that they got a reply of some kind, even if they couldn't understand it.

Emptying their spare gas containers, they once again returned to the warmth of the car, Carrie continually cursing the cold draught that swept through the broken window. It would have been better if it had been broken earlier in the night, if the stench and cold breeze had infiltrated the car then like it did now. Perhaps if they hadn't grown so used to the smell they might not have been so easily distracted. Still kicking herself, she tried not to yawn as time continued to progress, the both of them dangerously exhausted. Still going about their usual routine, they allowed the Walkers to close in before they took off again, but this time Rick brought them to another stop a little sooner than she expected. Glancing at the dashboard clock, she saw that it was approaching two o'clock.

"We need to turn off as soon as we can," he decided, his hands tense around the steering wheel. "It doesn't matter if its not the right road. We turn off the main road, lay low until morning and then double back."

"Alright," she agreed, glad to have come up with a solid plan.

"Gas is going to be tight, but we'll have to make it last," he commented, his eyes focused on the rear view mirror. "We're just wasting it with all this stopping and going."

Unable to stop it, Carrie tried her best to stifle a yawn of exhaustion, cracking a smile when Rick did the same. The notion of stopping to rest was very welcome to her, and all she had been doing was sitting there in the passenger seat.

"You should get some sleep," Rick said kindly, watching her. "I can wake you if I need you."

Giving a short chuckle, Carrie shook her head. "No...I don't think I could sleep right now anyway."

"Alright."

Something in his tone made her look over at him, a sense of relief maybe...he looked nervous now, and awkward tension filled the space between them. Unsure of what to say or do, Carrie watched him from the corner of her eye, catching the way his eyes darted over to her and then to the rear view mirror. Watching the Walker's progress behind them, he let his eyes dart over to her once again, and she waited with bated breath for him to say something.

"What's your favourite book?" he enquired, putting the car into gear and moving forward again.

She raised her eyebrow at him...hadn't he said they couldn't do that again? Striking up conversation that saw them laughing at one another had been the catalyst for what happened next, for their reckless distraction.

"I know I said we had to pay attention," he said quickly, explaining himself. "But it doesn't have to be...silent."

Carrie didn't quite know what to make of this, but something told her he wasn't striking up conversation with ease. He was making an effort. "The Devil Wears Prada. Yours?"

"Lord of the Rings," he answered, slowing back down to a stop and putting the hand brake on.

"I never read that," she said softly. Feeling the cold draught from the broken window, Carrie pulled her feet up onto her seat, getting comfortable again. "I saw the movie though."

"Didn't you read it in high school?"

"No. I was having fun in high school," she teased, remembering all the things she and her friends got up to when they should have been attended classes.

"You might be on to something there," he laughed at his own expense. "Wha-"

"No, no," she cut him off. "It's my turn. Tell me something you're really bad at."

"Bad at?" he pondered out loud. Thinking, he made a point of looking over his shoulder at the Walkers behind them. "Well, impressing women for one thing…but I'm terrible at slicing bread."

"Slicing bread?"

"It always turns out wonky, one end real thick and the other too thin…I always stuff it up somewhere along the line."

"Wow, that's quite a short coming."

"What's yours?"

"Household things…cooking, cleaning, laundry. I honestly don't think I ever washed an item of clothing until the outbreak."

"At all?" he asked in astonishment.

She shook her head, feeling embarrassed. A part of her worried about telling him this, that like plenty of others he might judge her being born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Hell, she had judged her own lifestyle even as she was living it. "I always had a house keeper. It was a steep learning curve for a lot of things after the outbreak."

"It sure sounds like it," he commented, although not unkindly. He sighed, his eyes darting back to the rear view mirror. "We all had something to learn after the outbreak."

"Some more than others."

Looking back at her, he hesitated before continuing. "Instead of using determent, I once put dishwashing liquid in the washing machine. Soap is soap, right?"

Carrie cringed sympathetically. "Geez, Rick. Even I know not to do that!"

He just laughed in good nature. "It took days for us to get the soap suds out. Lori was real good about it too, after she stopped laughing that was. She even pretended that our clothes didn't smell like lemons."

"That's pretty admirable, I would have mocked you relentlessly. I think the stupidest thing I've ever done was put diesel in my car instead of gasoline. That wa-"

"There," he cut her off, suddenly slamming the brakes on.

Looking down the road, he turned the high beams on and illuminated an intersection up ahead. Carrie breathed a sigh of relief, knowing how badly they needed to turn off the road and stop for the night. "I can't see the street name," she worried, squinting her eyes.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, starting forward again. "We'll turn off here."

Leaving the Walkers behind he took them all the way to the intersection, turning on the interior light when they came to a stop. Getting straight into action he loaded the flare gun and handed it to her, prompting her to get out. She followed his lead, watching as he drew his Colt and headed around to the back of the minivan. There was a thud followed by the sound of breaking glass, and the glow from the rear tail lights vanished. Breaking all of them, he glanced at her with a reassuring nod. It was now or never, and they had to act. It didn't matter that they didn't know the cross road's name or where it would take them. To keep going further south in search of a road they did know wouldn't be of any benefit, particularly when they were low on gas.

Making sure it was unlikely the herd would slow down or begin to lose focus without something to continue leading them, Rick raised his gun and started firing again. The sound of the six rounds echoed through the night, the brief flashes of light illuminating Rick's face as he fired. Knowing to pay attention to their surroundings and not to him, Carrie stayed focused, and she fired the flare high into the air, making sure it would fall in the right direction.

"Save the last one," he said bluntly, indicating to the new flare she was loading. "Let's go."

Following his lead, Carrie resumed her seat and slammed the door shut, hoping that was the last time she'd have to get out of the car. The stench of the Walkers was starting to get to her again, particularly now that the broken window allowed it to infiltrate the car. Joining her, Rick turned off the head lights and plunged them into almost complete darkness, the sudden change making Carrie tense. Apprehensive, Rick gave himself a short moment to let his eyes adjust before he removed the handbrake and started forward.

The tension thick, they fell back into silence as they turned left and began heading east, their speed quickly taking them away from the main road before the Walkers could notice they had turned. They wouldn't be able to know for sure that their plan was working, at least not until the following morning when they would double back. It would be too risky for them to check on the herd's progress tonight…for the next few hours they needed to stay far away.

"Daryl," Rick began, speaking through the radio. "I don't know if you can hear us or not, but we've turned off the main road. We're going to lay low for the rest of the night."

Rick waited a few moments for them to reply, for any indication that they had received their communication. But this time no reply came, not even a few garbled sounds from the dodgy connection. Rubbing his face with a long sigh, Rick dumped the radio back into the centre console and focused on driving, beginning to slow down a little. Having put enough distance between themselves and the herd they no longer needed to go at break neck speed, particularly given how difficult it was to see without the headlights.

A few miles later Rick slowed down to a stop, turning the engine off after they had lowered the windows. Letting silence engulf them once more, they listened for any sign of the herd, wishing they could know whether or not their plan was working. They heard only the breeze, which now carried a slightly cleaner scent for them to breathe in. Unlike before when the still atmosphere meant they couldn't smell the thousands of Walkers up ahead, the breeze now meant that they could. Though it was infinitely more pleasant than it had been, there was still the distinct smell of rotting flesh.

"Now what?" she asked. Though she knew their plan, it felt like the silence needed to be filled with something.

Rick sighed again, giving her a wry look. "Now, we wait."

* * *

"Now what?" Carrie asked.

Rick had to stop himself laughing out loud at this, amused that she pretended she didn't know. Trying not to roll his eyes, he looked over at her. "Now, we wait."

Thinking of how they would keep warm, Rick took the key from the ignition and stepped out of the car, heading for the trunk. In situations like these, everything always came down to their basic needs, the practicalities of life. Food, water and warmth. Though they had thrown in some of the Twinkies and a bottle of water, they had neglected to get themselves a blanket. He wanted to slam the trunk in frustration, but couldn't risk the excess noise attracting nearby Walkers. Taking a few moments to think, he used what little moonlight there was to look around, glad to see that they weren't completely enclosed by the woods. Judging by the wind, which still carried the faint stench of Walkers, they occupied a fairly open space, Rick unable to hear the rustling of trees.

Seeing Carrie standing outside the minivan, her jacket pulled tight as she shivered, he stopped taking pause and started properly thinking. They needed to be warm, and sitting in the car wasn't going to cut it. Remembering something the group had done when they were on the road after losing the farm, Rick took out his knife and headed for the back seat of the minivan. Making a small incision in the upholstery behind the driver's seat, he dug the tip of his knife in and began cutting it. The upholstery came away in a large rectangular piece, the synthetic lining on the inside promising warmth and a certain degree of itching.

"You're not just a handsome face, Rick Grimes," Carrie smiled, seeing what he was doing.

He was glad he wasn't looking at her when she said that, embarrassed by her comment. "I aim for more," he joked, handing her the upholstery.

Pulling the seats forward, he climbed into the very back and went about the same process with the back of the bench seats. Forced to lean at an awkward angle, Rick swore he could feel Carrie's eyes lingering on his ass, but he told himself to snap out of such thoughts. They were stranded in the darkness with no gas and no radio. Now was not the time for flirting…or anything else either.

Handing her two more pieces of fabric, he turned his attention to the broken window in the trunk, tilting his head to the side and trying to gauge the size and shape. Seeing a solution he started removing the headrest from the back seat, his numb fingers fumbling in the cold as it began to rain a little. Successfully removing it, he knocked out the remaining shards of glass and pressed the padded head rest into the hole left behind, pleased to see that it pretty much fit the shape. Wedging the empty gas containers underneath, Rick secured it in place and then stuffed various items in the gaps. Some bandages from the first aid kit and one of the slings plugged up the gaps, making the minivan practically airtight once again. With that taken care of, he got into the back seat first and quickly ushered Carrie to follow. Relieved to be out of the cold rain, she closed the sliding door and then brushed her hair off her face. Rick shrugged off his jacket and unbuckled his duty belt, taking the longer piece of upholstery and slinging it over his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" she said in surprise, frowning at him. Awkwardly reaching into the front, he pulled the lever and pushed the passenger seat forward, making enough room for him to comfortably sit on the floor and lean back against the door. "Take your jacket off, and put mine on," he instructed, making himself comfortable.

"Why?"

"Just…do it," he said in exasperation, hiding a smile.

Carrie did as instructed, flicking her hair over her shoulder and across the soft woollen lapels of his coat. He reached his hand out to her now, secretly enjoying the way she looked surprised as he gently tugged at her hand, pulling her down to the floor with him. Helping her settle into the space between his legs, he took the two smaller pieces of upholstery and passed them to her.

"Put these around your legs," he instructed, readjusting the longer one around his shoulders. "Tuck them into your boots."

Doing it, she chuckled bitterly. "I wish I wearing my jeans…yoga pants aren't exactly warm."

"Come on now, there's something to be said for them," he teased, remembering the way the thin material gave him greater access to the shape of the body beneath.

His words elicited a proper laugh, Carrie's torso shaking for a moment from amusement, not the cold. Feeling her shiver again, he tentatively slid his arms around her waist and encouraged her to lean back against him, hoping she would. It was practical, he told himself. Close contact was a sure way to keep warm when blankets were not available. He had spent many nights with his group curled up together, keeping one another warm. After the farm Carl slept between he and Lori, and then after the prison it was Judith sleeping between he and Carl, both children depending on their family for warmth and security. Whether she thought he was being practical, or something more, Carrie leant back against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. She pulled her knees up to her chest as they got comfortable, allowing Rick to lay her discarded jacket across her knees.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, using her jacket to cover up their exposed hands.

He just nodded, finding it increasingly difficult to not press his face into the side of her neck. Even his hands felt restless, though they were touching little more than the fabric of his jacket she was wearing. It was nice to have her in his arms, and Rick let himself enjoy her close proximity, the weight of her against his chest. Ignoring all thoughts of what they had been doing earlier, he tried to relax.

"Get some sleep," he requested, feeling her muscles relaxing even more.

"Will you?"

"No. I'm not tired," he lied.

There was a short pause before Carrie gave a bitter laugh. "Funny isn't it…you took second watch last night, then drove all day with Carl. Now you've been driving all night."

"Yeah?"

"You've been awake twenty four hours, and you're not tired."

Rick just shrugged. "On the road, before Aaron picked us up, we were being followed by a pack of Walkers. We were too tired to fight them off, but we couldn't stop to sleep."

"What did you do?"

"Just kept walking. When we came up on a bridge, we just tossed them over one by one. Then we slept, I think."

"Sleep was never a problem when I was on my own. Every now and then I'd just lay down, and eventually get back up. I never had to worry about the Walkers."

Rick sighed, his breath making her hair flutter. "Go to sleep," he told her again.

"No," she shook her head.

Moving a little, she placed her hands over his and began warming them up. There was silence for a little while, Rick content to listen to the rainfall, heavy droplets rolling down the windows and taking some of the Walker blood with them. It didn't take long for them to get warm again, Carrie breaking the silence only to ask if he was warm enough without his jacket. He insisted that he was, only lying a little bit. He didn't want either of them to move, content to stay exactly where they were well into the morning.

"What was your ten year plan?"

"Huh?" he said, startled by her sudden question. Tricked by the silence, he thought she had fallen asleep.

"Your ten year plan," she repeated. "Every married couple has one."

Sighing, Rick thought back to his former life, wanting to give her some kind of accurate answer. It was difficult to remember, that life feeling too long ago. "Lori and I…we wanted to move to Atlanta. We were waiting for Carl to finish middle school first. Give him a fresh start in junior high."

"A move to the city," she smiled. "What prompted that?"

He shrugged, still trying to remember. "We were bored in King County. Lori wanted more to do, more opportunities. She had a degree in accounting…she was too smart to be doing book keeping for the rest of her life. I wanted some more excitement as well. I was going to sit the Detective's exam."

"Detective Grimes," Carrie smiled. "What division?"

"Narcotics, I think," he answered, echoing her smile. "I was thinking of homicide, but then Breaking Bad started on cable."

Carrie laughed at this, remembering their earlier conversation. "What else?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "That was about it. We would have looked at private schools for Carl…Lori was talking about an investment property somewhere…other than that? I don't really know."

"That would have been nice for you," she said, her fingers running across the bumps of his knuckles.

"Yeah," he agreed wistfully, the ache in his chest reminding him why he didn't think of that life often. "What about you? What was your ten year plan?"

"Mmmm. Pre-divorce, it was our careers, and having kids somewhere in the future. But post-divorce? Just my career."

"Did you like it? Your job?"

"I loved it," she smiled. "It was a lot of pressure, but also a lot of client dinners and free wine. We used to get heaps of free stuff whenever we took on a new client…plus I had a bean bag in my office."

Rick scoffed. "A bean bag?"

"Ah huh."

"Jesus…we were lucky to get decent office chairs."

She laughed at this. "You loved your job, right?"

Hesitating, he answered as honestly as he could. "Most days."

"I'd imagine police officers didn't get a lot of thanks," she commented. "I know cops in New York didn't, even though they deserved it. You got shot on the job, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"I suppose you probably didn't need a bullet proof vest out in King County."

He laughed at this, shaking his head. "Actually, we had a few shooting shootings there for a small town. Every couple of months there was some drunk going off his tree…pharmacy got held up a couple of times. I was wearing a vest when I got shot."

"Why didn't it work?"

"It did," he assured her. "It caught one for me, but the next one got me in the back, below my shoulder. Missed the vest."

"That's…unlucky."

Rick smiled. No one had ever described him being shot in such simple terms. "Pretty much."

"Before all of this, I'd never even held a gun, let alone used one."

"Why was that?"

"Never needed to. I had pepper spray in my bag, a personal driver and a building with a doorman."

"A personal driver?"

"I only used him at night."

Astounded by this, Rick shook his head to himself. "I had to make sure Lori knew how to shoot," he commented, shifting a little as his leg started to go numb. "Cop's wife, a gun in the house…she needed to know how to use it safely."

"And Carl?"

"We taught him after the outbreak. Kids tend to learn firearm skills very quickly, and he was keen."

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said, pausing to stifle a yawn. "I'm not criticising…but why did you bring Carl on this supply run?"

For once, he didn't mind someone asking. Plenty of people from Alexandria had questioned this move, wondering if Rick had gone off the deep end, but he didn't mind it coming from Carrie. Her question was purely curiosity, not thinly veiled criticism.

"I could tell how badly he wanted to come," he began, readjusting his arms around her waist. "Because he was pretending he didn't care."

"Ah, reverse psychology?"

"Exactly. He kept rolling his eyes and disappearing elsewhere whenever we talked about it, as if I didn't know he was hiding at the top of the stairs eavesdropping on us. Then his behaviour was perfect…not a word of back talk, not one sock left lying around. Everyone knew he was either deathly sick, or trying to get on my good side."

"He wanted to see the prison again?"

Rick nodded. "He needed closure, and I didn't want to deny him that. Plus, I didn't want Carol and the others put in a bad position if he went sneaking off again."

"Sneaking off where?" she laughed. "How far can you go inside a couple of blocks?"

"Well, you can climb the walls and wander around the woods for hours on end."

"Oh."

"Yeah, he'd been doing that, doing it as if I didn't know he was. It's the one promise that he's broken lately, going over the walls after I caught him."

"Are there many Walkers out there?"

"There's enough." He sighed now. "I've been letting him do it though…Michonne and I, every time we spot him going out, one of us follows him, keeps an eye on him. He's just looking for some fresh air…something familiar."

"There's no fresh air inside the walls?"

"No," he shook his head with a chuckle. "No, those people…they're stifling. Carl doesn't know where he fits in, who he's supposed to be. Out here on the road, he knows his place."

There was a short pause, Carrie's hands coming back to rest on top of his. Feeling that they were a getting cold again, she took them in hers and readjusted their position. She tucked them inside his jacket she was wearing, his palms pressing against each side of her waist, her body blissfully warm.

"Better?"

He nodded against her shoulder, getting comfortable once again.

"You read Carl like a book," she commented with a smile. "You always seem to know what he needs, or what he's going to say."

Shrugging, Rick answered her. "He's almost fifteen…I ought to have figured him out by now. He reads me just as well."

"He's a good kid."

Rick laughed to himself. "Better for the others."

"How so?"

"If I told him to jump, he'd question why. But if Daryl told him to jump, he'd ask, how high?"

Carrie echoed his laugh. "Oh come on…we're all better behaved for people other than our parents."

He scoffed. "There was once a time when I was best friend."

"Now that's Michonne?"

"Yeah…Michonne, or anyone with a candy bar."

"Candy Bar? I'll keep that in mind."

There was a short lull in the conversation. "Go to sleep," he told her, putting his head back against the door. "I will too."

"No, you won't," she laughed shortly. "I know you."

"Oh, do you now?" he challenged, unable to keep a hint of playfulness out of his tone.

Feeling bold, he reaffirmed his embrace before sitting up a little. He brushed his lips against ear her lobe, feeling her turning her head towards him as he moved down to her neck. Lingering there, with his jaw pressed against her neck and his lips poised to kiss her, he smiled to himself as he felt her holding her breath…waiting.

"Go to sleep," he told her again, a little more firmly now.

Her breath escaped her in a short laugh, her body relaxing a little. She must have received the message though, for she made no more protest to his instructions. Without a word she gave a long sigh and then got comfortable again, putting her head back to rest against his shoulder. In a few mere minutes he knew that she had fallen asleep, feeling her slow, even breaths beneath his arms. It would be asking too much of his body to try and stay awake all night, especially given he hadn't slept since awakening for the second watch the night before. Despite this, he fought sleep for as long as he could, aided by the burning guilt he still harboured in the pit of his stomach.

What he had allowed to happen earlier was inexcusable…and he ought to know, having spent the hours since that incident trying to do exactly that. No matter how badly he wanted to lose himself in Carrie at a moment's notice, he knew he couldn't allow that to happen under those circumstances. It was the first time he had let his guard down for so long, and the lives of his whole group had been depending on his focus and attention to detail. Allowing himself to be swarmed by potentially thousands of Walkers was reprehensible, particularly when the reason was nothing more than sexual gratification.

And yet despite how resolute he was in the knowledge that he couldn't let himself be distracted by Carrie, he couldn't help but strike up conversation. After what happened with the Walkers, silence had engulfed them, both he and Carrie too shocked to really say more than a few words. As though they were regressing, the silence was awkward and uncomfortable, both of them knowing that what they had done was irresponsible, that they had only themselves to blame. But no matter how guilty he felt, and rightfully so, the silence was fucking awful. Sitting in silence was something he was used to doing with Lori through the last few months of her life, a regret he harboured often.

Disregarding the guilt he felt, for this time he wouldn't let himself be distracted, he began to let his guard down just a little. He still wanted Carrie, and he'd take her in any form he could get. The more he thought about it, the less unreasonable his desires became. He deserved this, he deserved Carrie. He could have her too, just not like that night. Things needed to be different, and while he doubted he could wait long enough for them to get back to the safety of Alexandria, he knew one thing for certain.

He couldn't afford to second guess his group's safety.


	24. Chapter 24

Blinking slowly, Carrie awoke feeling warm and comfortable, a pleasant change from the way she usually awoke for the last two weeks. Usually awake first, it tended to be Daryl who awoke the group, grunting at them and occasionally kicking the slowest to rouse. With a tight schedule to stick to there was never time to lie in and sleep just a little more, and it was taking some getting used to for Carrie. On her own and covered in Walker guts, she was used to simply laying down where she stood and falling asleep, getting up only when she feared she might die if she didn't. While a part of her wished for a long, gratuitous sleep in, Carrie had never been more grateful that there was someone waking her up each morning…that there was simply someone.

Despite her appreciation of having a group to wake her each day, Carrie couldn't help but enjoy the gentle transition from sleep to wakefulness, particularly when her day started like this. Having not moved throughout the short night, she was still resting against Rick's chest, his arms loosely slung around her waist. Relishing the moment, Carrie sighed and moved one hand to rest atop of his. Taking her other hand out from underneath her jacket, she rubbed her eyes and looked out the window. The sky was tinged with morning light, the slight change rousing her the way it roused the Walkers. She wearily rubbed her face, breathing a deep sigh as she slipped her hand back underneath the jacket where it was warmer. As she came around properly, she remembered where she was, that she and Rick were stranded somewhere unknown with very little gas and a poor radio signal. Despite this, she didn't feel so much as a flicker of distress.

Despite his insistence that he would stay awake on watch, it appeared that Rick too had drifted off to sleep. His chest rhythmically rising and falling behind her, Rick slept on, unaware that she had awoken. She knew he was wearing a watch, but she resisted the impulse to lift the jacket and find his wrist, not wanting to wake him. Judging by the glimmers of sunlight it was still very early, and the chill of the night still lingered. Morning dew had settled on the glass and obscured the view outside, making her depend on her hearing to ascertain that they were still safe. There was no sign of Walkers around the car, nor signs of strangers approaching. The only sound to be heard was Rick, his gentle breathing providing peaceful background noise as she started to think about the previous night.

She was aware, somewhere in the back of her mind, that by all reason she should have shied away from Rick's touch, that she shouldn't long for it as much as she did. It had only been a few months since those men had arrived on her doorstep and taken advantage of her. When she told Rick about it, he had called it rape, his tone leaving no room for argument. Further to that, she had been attacked again later, almost subjected to a violent assault in the middle of the woods. Having gone through that, and not all that long ago either, shouldn't she shy away from physical contact? Shouldn't the thought of someone touching her like that revolt her, not arouse her?

A small part of her wondered if something was wrong with her, while a larger part reasoned with herself. She didn't shy from Rick's touch, because it had never been anything other than respectful. She longed for it because the desire was mutual, the exchange of power equal in all respects. Having sexual contact forced upon her in the past only made Carrie that much more resolved in the choices she made now, and she was confident that Rick's hands would only ever reach for her with consent. She wanted his hands to reach for her, enjoying his obvious attraction and the nervousness it brought him. But while her attacker's hands groped her, Rick's had caressed. Where others had manhandled and taken her, Rick tentatively approached, begging for permission. Although the smaller part of her mind continued to wonder if there was something wrong with her, Carrie felt at ease with him, comfortable to let him explore her body while she willingly offered it to him.

Curled up in his warm embrace, she wondered just how far they would have gone last night had they not been interrupted. Certainly she knew what she intended to do as she struggled to get his belts off, her hands rubbing the front of his jeans. But what after that? Would they have had sex right there in the minivan, perhaps stretched out on the back seat? With a pang of disappointment, Carrie knew it wasn't an option even if they had wanted to…unless Rick magically had a condom hidden in his back pocket. The use of contraception was the only concession the men who attacked her would allow. Although she hadn't had her period for months, the risk of falling pregnant to one of them was not one she was willing to take, almost as bad as the thought of contracting something from them. There was no doubt in her mind that they were vile, and that they had probably taken advantage of women with alarming frequency since the outbreak, and Carrie did the one thing she could do to protect herself from the myriad of diseases he might carry.

A carefully placed lie ensured that they were sufficiently afraid of touching her without a condom. Doing the only thing that would persuade them to meet her request, she blurted out that she had gonorrhoea, that they would risk infection of they didn't do what she asked. There had been a coupon for condoms at one stage or another, because the couponer who owned that house had over a hundred boxes in her large stock pile. The blatant lie had protected Carrie from what ever diseases those men might have been carrying, but also from the possibility of falling pregnant to them.

God, what she wouldn't give for just one of those condoms now. Thinking of last night again she fought back the desires she was still feeling, getting the strong urge to pick up where they had left off. But the thought of risking pregnancy stopped her from trying to initiate anything again. These days, falling pregnant without the right support could serve as a death sentence. Given what happened to his wife, Rick knew that all too well.

Even though she knew they should be grab everything they could carry and start looking for gas, for surely the amount they had wouldn't get them far enough, Carrie didn't want to move. Now that it was light out, Abraham would be taking one car to Rock Hill to retrieve gas, and the whole group would be worried about them. Having not made radio contact since late last night, they would be fearful that something had gone wrong…Carl must be going out of his mind with worry. She had heard what Rick had told Glenn last night, that no matter what happened the group needed to keep moving forward. Rick's priority was making sure his son got home safely, even if that came at the cost of being left behind.

Though she hadn't known them all that long, Carrie suspected she knew what the group would do if she and Rick didn't turn up in a reasonable time frame. Glenn would keep his promise to Rick and make sure Carl got home safely, but as for the others, Carrie suspected there would be some who remained behind to look for them. Until they had more gasoline, Rick and Carrie were stranded without hope, making her question whether the best option would be to set off on foot, or wait at the car for help to arrive.

Just as this question occurred to her, Carrie felt Rick beginning to rouse. Releasing a long sigh, he shifted just a little, his arms around her waist flexing as he got comfortable again. Staying quiet, she let him wake up at his own pace, enjoying the way he pressed his face into her hair and sighed again.

"Carrie," he grunted a few minutes later. "You awake?"

"Yeah," she nodded, letting go of his hand as he tried to move it. "You sleep alright?"

He shrugged, rubbing his face as he cleared his throat. "I guess so."

Sitting up a little straighter, he resumed his hold around her middle. There was a short pause as he breathed deeply, and to her surprise he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. Enjoying the sensation of his lips against her skin, of his beard scratching, she twisted her head back towards him to seek out his lips.

"What?" she asked as he hastily turned away.

"…got morning breath," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes again.

Though she hardly cared, having shared many morning kisses that could have used a tic tac, Carrie kissed the underside of his jaw instead, his stubble rough beneath her lips. "Come on," she prompted, feeling wide awake. "Let's face the day."

Hauling herself off the floor, Carrie sat on the back seat and began unravelling herself from the layers of upholstery and jackets that had kept her warm for the last few hours. Shrugging Rick's jacket off, she returned it too him and put her own on instead. They silently got out of the car and began stretching their arm and legs gratefully, Rick rolling his shoulders back as though they were sore. While he put his duty belt back on and checked his Colt, Carrie began assessing the damage done to the car. Although it looked awful at first, blood and gore smeared over every reachable inch, it was the dents in the body work that they wouldn't be able to hide. While Rick opened the trunk and rummaged through their supplies, Carrie picked up a strong stick and began clearing the front of the car. Chunks of flesh were stuck in the front grill, and she kicked away half an arm stuck in the tyre well. They allowed themselves a few minutes to get organised, eating and drinking as they tried to prepare for whatever they might face.

"What way are we heading?" she asked, the two of them having agreed to leave in search of gas.

"Don't know," he shrugged, checking the scope on the large black rifle he carried. Looking into the trunk, he indicated to the binoculars. "See what you can find…there should definitely be some properties around."

"You're awfully confident for someone who doesn't even know what road this is," she teased.

Chuckling at the exasperated look he gave her, Carrie headed to the front of the minivan and climbed onto the hood, her boots slipping on the morning dew and piece of slimy flesh. Using the windscreen to steady herself, which was slightly cleaner, she stood tall and raised the binoculars. They were surrounded by wide open fields that were over grown with weeds and grass, their wooden fences beginning to rot without the required maintenance. Seeing something that resembled a water trough, she knew Rick had been right in his determination that there would be properties close by. Turning, she carefully scanned the horizons, her heart soaring as she found exactly what they needed. In the distance she saw the roof of a building amongst the trees, the different angles indicating that it was likely a house.

"You're not going to believe our luck," she smiled, looking back at Rick. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, perhaps not having expected her to find anything immediately close. Putting down the rifle, he joined her on the hood of the minivan and took the binoculars. "I think it's a house."

"There's a tractor in the field…might be some spare gasoline around." Frowning darkly, he scanned the surrounding area too. "We're never this lucky."

"You might not be this lucky," she shrugged, putting her hands on her hips. "But occasionally, I am."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, some guy who nearly ran me over last week must have felt bad, because he gave me a ride."

"Some guy?" he questioned wryly, trying to withhold a laugh.

"Yeah, some guy."

Apparently amused by her story, Rick sighed in exasperation before smiling at her. A short moment passed before he leant over and kissed her lightly, his hand tentatively brushing hers. Eagerly returning the gesture, she tried to reach her hands around his neck, but teetered as she lost her balance on the slippery slope of the hood. Steadying her, Rick chuckled under his breath before jumping down and turning back for her. He held his hand out and helped her down, his torn expression indicating his struggle to not reach out for her again.

"Rick," she began, daring to take what they both clearly wanted. The corners of her mouth turned upward as he looked at her, waiting. "There are no Walkers around," she informed him, gesturing with her hand.

"I noticed," he slowly replied.

She appeared to have broken his resolve, tempting him despite what had happened last night, despite the resolute determination to be on alert at all times. Without wasting any more time, he put his hands on her and started with a light brush of his lips against hers. Everything they had felt last night reignited in an instant; the way they enjoyed one another's company, their lustful attraction that they couldn't hold back any more. They were being entirely hedonistic, indulging in something they so desperately longed for against the back drop of the world. Despite all the hell they had both been through, there was no way in hell Carrie was turning her back on something good like this.

The passion grew quickly, Carrie staggering a little as they tried to get all of each other at once. Rick's touch felt like it was were everywhere, her skin burning hot beneath each sweep of his wandering hands. With an amorous sigh she eagerly encouraged him, wanting him to take all he desired just as she did the same. Reaching as far as she could, she tried to lower her hands to his ass, having wanted to feel it up ever since their first kiss a few days ago. Grunting in frustration, she realised his damn duty belt was in the way, the pouches and holster making it difficult to reach around him. Punishing him for his choice in apparel, she gently pressed her teeth into the swell of his lower lip, though the groan he gave indicated his approval.  
Breaking their gentle kiss, she brought her hands up to his front and clenched them in his shirt, looking him in the eye as she lead him backwards. He panted as he sought her lips again, taking as much as he could until he realised what she was doing. His eyes widened with approval, but he nevertheless tried to stop her.

"Carrie, we can't rig-"

"One minute," she bargained. Still clenching the front of his shirt, she awkwardly climbed into the back seat of the minivan, ducking her head as she tugged at him to follow her. "Just one."

Despite his protest, Rick didn't hesitate for long. "Just one," he agreed, glancing around once again to check for Walkers. Almost bumping his head on the door frame in his haste, he followed her in and slammed the back door closed.

Laying down across the back seat, she made room for him to kneel between her knees before tugging him down. There were a few awkward moments as they got themselves comfortable, Rick taking his weapons out of their holsters and tossing them onto the floor. Waiting impatiently, she fought the need to clench her legs together, knowing that wasn't what she needed to soothe the growing ache between her legs. She wanted to feel Rick's weight on top of her, his hands quelling her hypersensitive skin. The motion of laying his body over hers came naturally, and let her bring him closer for a much desired contact. When he bore his weight on one arm and settled himself down against her, Carrie drew him into a deep kiss as she slid her legs around his.

A long groan forced itself out of his throat, his head dropping onto her shoulder when she roughly pulled his groin against hers. Getting carried away quickly, Rick started rocking against her, leaving her to hastily catch up and match his movements. Feeling the relief she sought, she thanked him by tugging his shirt from the back of his waistband and touching him properly. Just like hers, Rick's skin was warm and flushed with arousal. Pushing her hands up his back, she revelled in the way his muscles flexed beneath her fingertips, feeling his shoulder blade flex as he lowered his hand.

Swearing under his breath, he panted against the curve of her neck as one hand caressed her ass. With a single movement that made her arousal intensify, he pressed himself against her centre and used his hand to hold her there. His erection bulged against his jeans, prominently felt by Carrie in all the right places, and she groaned in approval as she sought his lips out again. Eager for more, she kissed him just as hard as she had the night before, the tip of her tongue brushing his and earning an amorous sigh in reply. But while Carrie's eagerness only grew, Rick abruptly pulled away, the loss of his body on top of hers leaving her at a loss.

Gasping for breath, Rick pushed himself upright and knelt between her legs, his expression startled as he looked down at her. His hands were gripping each of her knees as though he depended on them for support, as if they were the only things stopping him from laying back down and resuming their kiss. There was a moment of loaded silence, the two of them largely still despite panting to catch their breath. Though she was fully clothed, Carrie felt rather exposed with him hovering above her, holding her legs apart the way he did. Panting heavily, he finally looked away. His hand coming up to push his hair back, he looked over his shoulder as though he had only just remembered they were in a world infested by the dead. Giving a moment to collect his thoughts, Carrie too sat up, although she did so significantly more slowly than he did. Her movement seemed to reawaken him, and his fingers flexed on her knees as he looked at her apprehensively, worried she might misinterpret the reason he had pulled away.

"That was a fast minute," she sighed, understanding that he was still trying to be cautious.

He nodded in silence, unable to find the words his lips seemed to be seeking. "Yes it was," he finally agreed, the word slow and drawn out.

Amused by his self-control, Carrie sought to chip away at it a little more. Her legs still slung around his, she gave him an innocent smile as she cupped the front of his jeans. She rubbed his erection through his jeans, enjoying the way he moved into her touch, a hot breath escaping his lips.

"One more thing," she requested. Seeking something she had wanted to do for days, she moved her hands around to his ass. She could feel just enough of him though the denim to satisfy her curiosity, and she wished he didn't have to wear two belts all the time…forgoing those would make accessing him that much easier. Dragging her fingertips over his ass, she spread her fingers and gave it a firm squeeze, loving the jolt of arousal that seemed to take him by surprise.

"Carrie," he warned her, the sound of her name making her look him in the eye. Looking at her with a conflicted expression of desire and self-control, he unconsciously licked his bottom lip, the motion sending a jolt straight to Carrie's groin. "You're going to be very bad for me."

There was no opportunity for her to respond to this, not when he was suddenly kissing her as though it might be the last time. All thoughts of their predicament once again vanished, her mind going blissfully blank as they kissed languidly. Her craving for him refused to subside, and if it weren't for his admirable self-control, Carrie would have pulled him back down on top of her again. But try as she might, he resisted, fighting her as she tried to pull him back against her. Panting for breath, Rick instead pulled away with admirable self control. Nevertheless perhaps he wasn't as strong willed as she first thought, for he boldly reached out for her tank top. Pulling the neckline down a little, he revealed a purple mark he must have left there last night. His eyes flicked up to hers to gauge her reaction, worried she would be mad at him for marking her up like that. When given no such indication, he swooped down and pressed a gentle kiss to the bruise, his tongue darting out to taste her skin.

"Men," she muttered briskly. "Always marking your territory."

"Yes," he agreed. He turned his attention to the curve of her neck now, lightly running his lips and tongue across her skin. Feeling that she was cold, he pulled the front of her jacket across and zipped it up for her, finishing with by brushing his lips across hers. "Let's go."

He opened the door and was gone before she could protest, before she could make any attempt to convince him to stay. Lingering, Carrie took a few moments to let her heart rate settle down, knowing that her hands were shaking, that she was still catching her breath. Clearing her throat, she tucked her tank top into the waistband of the yoga pants for extra warmth before starting to shuffle out of the car. She stopped at the last minute and turned back for the items Rick had tossed aside in the heat of the moment. His uncharacteristic lapse served as a reminder to herself, and she made sure her gun was holstered. Checking the straps were sufficiently tight around her leg, she took her gun out and looked it over. She removed the magazine and cleared the chamber, checking the number of rounds she had available all together. Although Rick indulged her preference to carry it unloaded while they travelled, their situation today required her to be armed and ready.

"What are you doing?" she enquired. Finally getting out of the minivan, she frowned as she noticed him standing a few feet away from the trunk. He was standing rather awkwardly, his concentration fully focused on the opposite field as his lips moved, talking to himself. At her enquiry he looked over his shoulder, a slight flash of embarrassment crossing his face.

"I'm saying the Pledge of Allegiance," he answered, his words slow and measured.

Carrie frowned and then burst into laughter as soon as she understood. Given what they had just been doing, particularly the way she rubbed him through the front of his jeans, he must be feeling rather uncomfortable and dissatisfied, though the latter could only be attributed to his own self-control.

"I'd thank you to stop laughin' at me, you're only making this harder," he scolded. She burst out laughing again, and as he realised what he had said Rick just cringed and gave a loud sigh. "Alright, poor choice of words."

Containing herself, Carrie shook her head in exasperation, coming forward to return the important items he had left in the minivan. As he saw her come closer his eyes widened in alarm, and he backed away from her like a skittish pony.

"Hey, now…that won't help either," he scolded again.

She raised her eyebrow in exasperation. "No, but I hear these help against Walkers," she quipped, holding out his Colt and knife.

"Right," he nodded, looking embarrassed again. He gratefully took the gun back from her, his expression one of wry amusement as he quickly put some space between them again.

"You don't trust me?" she asked over her shoulder, already heading to the open trunk.

"Not one bit."

Enjoying their banter, Carrie picked up their bag of supplies and shrugged it over her shoulders, gathering the four empty gas containers they would fill if they found anything. A few moments later Rick joined her, and she kept herself in check as they stood side by side, resisting the urge to bump her hip against his. Now that they had stopped, the reality of their situation was no longer forgotten, and she knew how urgently they needed to find the rest of their group again. There was a flicker of guilt inside her as she thought about this, knowing that the others would be sick with worry, Carl in particular. They shouldn't have lingered for as long as they already had.

Securing a second gun into the back of his waistband, Rick filled his pockets with spare magazines before handing her some. Grateful that there were pockets in Maggie's jacket, Carrie did as she was told and filled them, though she only reluctantly took the small revolver Rick passed her next. Nevertheless it fit into her pocket, clinking against the spare rounds Rick filled her palm with. Slamming the trunk closed, he doubled checked that he had the keys before they set off down the road, Carrie looking through the binoculars at the roof of the house they had spotted. It was unfathomable that they had stopped for the night in this precise spot, although luck had served them well for the last few hours. Late yesterday afternoon their convoy had stopped to make camp for the night, worried about their levels of gas. If they had continued any further they would have run straight into the herd on the road ahead…with low gas and two enormous vehicles that weren't exactly fast to turn around, they would have had to abandon their supplies and make a run for it.

Though he was restraining himself admirably, she could still feel Rick's eyes on her as they walked, and she caught him looking at her once or twice. Instead of being embarrassed like before, he just smiled each time she caught him, his expression making her heart swoop. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders since last night, relieved that the tension and uncertainty between the two of them was resolved. They both knew exactly where they stood with one another, their attraction clear and well established. In particular she understood that anything between them needed to be a complete secret, that if Carl had any knowledge of his father fooling around with someone he would be deeply upset. Carrie was grateful for the need to be discreet, having always kept her business rather private.

As the grand house came into their view, Carrie raised the binoculars again and took a better look at it. The architecture reminded her of the many farm houses she had seen throughout the state of Georgia, and it too had fallen into disrepair. Looking further around, she observed another building that might have been horse stables and then a separate garage, but there was little indications of life there. There were no cars in sight and all the windows were either curtained or boarded up…looking for one last key indicator, she turned her attention to the chimneys. Closer now, she could see a hint of grey smoke drifting upward.

"Someone's there," she commented, lowering the binoculars and handing them to him. "The fireplace is lit."

He nodded in agreement, seeing what she indicated. He continued looking around, and when he lowered the binoculars his expression was torn. Though she couldn't claim to know him well, she knew him enough to understand what he was thinking. The presence of another person was unexpected, and they both knew that it could go one of two ways. They were going to face friendly hospitality, or hostility…despite what she had experienced in the past, Carrie found herself holding out hope, optimistic that the presence of other people would serve as helpful to them. Rick on the other hand, appeared to be taking the opposite approach.

Prompting her to take her gun out, Rick clipped the binoculars to his duty belt and withdrew his Colt, double checking its rounds before bringing the rifle around to his front. His body straightened up, his head tilted a little as he walked a little taller and squared his shoulders. She could tell he was ready for a fight, that he was ready to defend himself and her if necessary. While she understood this need, she hoped that his approach didn't set them and the occupant of the house off on the wrong foot.

"Rick," she began quietly. "It's probably fine."

"Be prepared for it not to be," he said firmly. His tone had changed now, and she could tell that the friendly banter and rapport they had built up needed to take a back seat now. Rick was the leader, and he knew what he was doing…as part of his group she was expected to follow his lead, to trust him. Knowing how far he had led his people, Carrie took a deep breath and began doing as required. As she too squared her shoulders and stood a little taller, he seemed to give her a nod of approval.

In no time at all, they reached the drive way, the partially sunken cattle grid another indication of the property's disrepair. They crossed it and then climbed the well gate before heading down the drive way. Conscious that the property was occupied Rick was keeping his eyes peeled, looking at all the windows for some sign that anyone had seen their approach. Carrie too was on full alert, not wanting to be taken by surprise. While Rick's gaze kept the house covered, Carrie turned her attention to their immediate surroundings. The house was to their left, with a large barn further down the back of the property. To their right was an old garage, the large wooden doors looking as though they were beginning to rot from the weather.

Shivering from a particularly cold gust of wind, one that brought a whiff of the Walker herd that must be many miles away now, Carrie tightened her grip on her handgun, feeling the tension that radiated off of Rick. His eyes were darting between the house and the garage, wondering which he should approach first. In another universe he would likely have just knocked on the front door and requested the home owner's help, perhaps the use of their phone or a ride into town for a couple of bucks…but not these days. Getting the feeling that their arrival had gone largely unnoticed, Rick got Carrie's attention and indicated to the shed at the back, signalling that they should go there first.

They took care to walk around the entire garage before they dared to go inside, always needing to be aware of the entrances and exits. Admiring Rick's methodical practices, for she was much the same, Carrie continued following his lead, looking up when he pointed to something. Above the garage door was a wide window, one which would serve the purpose of letting them see inside. Not needing to discuss it, she and Rick set about emptying their hands. Putting down the pack, she removed her gun from the holster and the spare revolver from her pocket, carefully setting them out on the ground where they would be safest. Seeing Rick crouched on one knee with his hands linked together, she hoped there wasn't too much mud on her boots.

"Don't drop me," she said in worry, hesitating before placing her foot in his hands and stepping up.

"I won't," he grumbled.

Clenching one hand into his hair to steady herself, Carrie felt a wave of unsteadiness the moment Rick began to stand. Pressing her other hand against the wall, she tried to keep her balance as he raised her up. "A bit higher," she requested, her fingertips just reaching the bottom of the window sill. She suddenly squealed as Rick lifted her up more, feeling a wave of vertigo as one hand grabbed the window sill while the other slammed against the garage door. "Rick!" she hissed.

"What?"

"You nearly dropped me!"

"I did not."

"Put me down!"

"I've got you, just-"

"Put me down, please!"

Growling to himself, Rick lowered her back to the ground, trying not to roll his eyes as he looked at her startled expression. "Don't tell me you're afraid of heights."

Her heart racing as she stood up properly, she glared at him. "I lived in Manhattan, and you think I'm afraid of a six foot drop?"

"Well you did accuse me of nearly dropping you."

"You did."

Exasperated, he crouched down on one knee to try something different. "Put your right foot on my leg, and your knee on my shoulder." She hesitated, nearly making Rick roll his eyes. "I won't drop you!"

Muttering her distrust under her breath, Carrie reluctantly did as she was told, taking one of his hands to steady her balance. As she put her foot on his thigh and her knee on his shoulder, he gripped the sole of her boot and slowly stood up. Feeling a little more steady, she let him get to his feet before letting go of his hand. Her knee rested on his shoulder while his hand supported her other leg, but he didn't seem to be straining a great deal. More confident now, she reached for the window sill and gripped it tightly.

"Okay, push me up quickly."

"Are you going to fre-"

"No!"

Doing as he was told, Rick pushed her up and off his shoulder, his hands supporting her foot and knee as she rested her forearm on the window sill while the other held on to the top of the frame. Panting for breath, she bore as much of her weight as she could on her arms, clumsily wiping the morning dew off the window.

"Can you see anything?"

"Not sure," she panted, straining to keep herself in position. Concentrating, she looked inside the poorly lit garage, trying to make out the large shape she could see inside. Making out the shape of what looked like the cabin of a pick up truck, she tried to figure out what the large cylinder on the back might be…making out the different shapes and shadows, she came to an optimistic conclusion. "I think there might be gas."

"Huh?"

"I think there might be-"

"Are there Walkers?" he cut her off.

"Not that I can see."

"People?"

"Not that I can see."

"Good enough," he grunted, starting to lower her down.

Her heart leapt as he suddenly started lowering her, her fingers clamouring for grip against the garage door. But he had her covered, his hands grasping the top of her thighs as he lowered her safely back to the ground. Grateful to be back on two feet, she ignored the way his hands slid up her backside as he stood, suspecting he hadn't done so intentionally. She was right, for a moment later he turned his attention back to the garage, quickly reminding her to pick up her guns.

She followed him around to the rear of the building, stopping at the rear door where they could enter more safely than through the wide garage door. "You said there was gas?"

"Looks like there's a pick up truck with a big tank on the back. Could be gas."

"Let's find out," he said, shouldering his rifle. He withdrew his Colt instead, holding his flashlight as he turned the door knob, but didn't open it. "You ready?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, taking off the safety switch and putting a round in the chamber. "I'll go left."

Not lingering to dwell, Rick opened the door and shone his flashlight around, quickly stepping inside and moving to the right. Following him inside, Carrie moved to the left and began looking around, mentally prepared for the possibility of finding Walkers inside that she hadn't seen before. In seconds they swept the garage and found it to be secure, though they never wavered more than a few feet from each other. She suspected that was intentional on Rick's part, staying close to her rather than depending on her staying close to him.

With the small garage secure, they let their guard down just a little. While her eyes immediately darted towards the pick up truck carrying a large tank of clear liquid, Rick's attention was focused on the direction of the house, even though he couldn't see it through the shed walls. There were a few short moments in which she waited for him to act first, suspecting he was trying to gauge his instincts. Finally he turned his attention to the large tank on the back of the pick up, looking at small tap that hung over the back of the vehicle's tray. He rubbed his finger underneath the spout.

"Gasoline," he nodded, smelling the small drop of liquid on his finger.

The tank was enormous, and it looked to be about three quarters full. They would have no problem filling the minivan's tank with this, but there was the unspoken problem of how they could manage to do so. With this gasoline clearly spoken for by whoever was occupying the house, taking even a drop could get them killed…people had been killed for less these days. The four containers they had to fill would be a significant improvement over the near empty tank they were currently sporting, but it wouldn't get them far if they ran into trouble or had difficulty finding their way to Rock Hill. In order to fill their tank they'd either have to risk bringing the minivan to this garage, or risk slowly carrying them across the property and hoping their presence went undetected.

"Let's do this, and get out of here," Rick mused, one hand resting on his duty belt. Distracted, Carrie couldn't help but notice the way he stood, wondering how he made it look so damn sexy. "Four gallons should be enough to get to Rock Hill."

"Agreed."

"Look for anything else we can fill," he instructed, handing her the flashlight as he headed for the door. "I'll get the containers."

Nodding, she turned on the flashlight and started shining it around, hoping she found what they needed. Taking an old milk bottle that looked clean, Carrie tossed it towards the pick up and then kept looking. Hearing footsteps behind her, she smiled to herself, but didn't turn around. Her heart raced as she pictured Rick trying to sneak up on her, the smirk he would be wearing as he slid his hands around her waist, though she knew they definitely couldn't start anything. Filled with anticipation, she played deaf, pretending she couldn't hear his footsteps, though she did wonder why he wasn't treading lightly. There was a short pause as she waited, and knowing there was only so long she could pretend to be looking at a work bench covered in power tools, Carrie spoke first.

"Rick…are you trying to sneak up on me?"

"No, Darlin'…I ain't sneaking up on you."

Feeling her blood run cold, the smile died on her face at the sound of this voice. She recognised it, the terror associated with those memories rendering her paralysed. Frozen in panic, the notion of drawing her gun didn't even cross her mind, because she knew it was already too late. If it was him…if it was really him then there was nothing she could do except stand there choking on the scream stuck in her throat.

"Now turn around…nice and slow," they instructed.

Feeling as though someone had pulled a rug out from under her, she was too slow to act, and her delay earned her a rough shove. Releasing the breath stuck in her throat, Carrie drew in a shuddering gasp as she braced herself against the wall, using it to support herself as she clenched her eyes shut. She was dreaming…she absolutely had to be dreaming, because if she wasn't then this was the end for her. She couldn't take that abuse again, not now, not after finding hope and learning to live once more.

"I said, turn around!"

The person grabbed for her, seizing her upper arm and roughly yanking her away from the wall. She tried to scream for help, but a faint cry was all she managed as her knees buckled in fear. Rick's flashlight went flying as another shove sent her sprawling to the ground, and while the first thing she saw was the gun pointed at her, it was not what frightened her most. Looking at the figure above her, all the breath left her body in a low sob.

It was him…the one person she thought she'd never have to face again.

There was an instant in which they both just looked at each other, Carrie able to see the very moment recognition crossed his face. His eyes widened in revelation, a broad smile crossing his face. He swiftly laughed, no doubt revelling in the entertainment that came with the realisation that her attempt to punish him had come back to bite her.

"Holy fuck," Granger said in awe, grinning at her. "Well if it ain't little Miss Georgia from the state of Georgia."

A/N Confused? See the flashback in Chapter 18. Please review, it makes my day!


	25. Chapter 25

The Summer of 2013

Granger was still on top of her, his body still holding her down as he panted against the back of her neck. Laying face down, the mattress wet beneath her eyes, Carrie stayed still and quiet as if playing dead would make him leave her alone. He was still pressed inside her, finally done after his second go at her, but still inside her nonetheless. Not wanting to arouse him again, she resisted the instinctual need to make him pull out of her body, and instead focused on staying still. Satiated, he lay heavily on top of her, trapping her beneath him like she had been trapped for three days now.

Something got his attention, and he raised his head off her shoulder for a moment. With a long and content sigh, he finally pulled out and rolled off her, Carrie's body filling with relief. Only inches to her left was the silk robe belonging to the original owner of the house they occupied. Laying there naked and vulnerable, she found the courage to sit up and reach for it. Uncomfortably aware of the way he stared at her, she got to her feet and pulled the gown on, covering the body that didn't feel like it belonged to her anymore.

"Where are you going?"

Closing her eyes, Carrie's shoulders sagged as she realised he wasn't finished after all.

"Georgia," he moaned, the fake name she had given him smoothly rolling off his tongue. He patted the bed beside him, looking at her expectantly. "Come lay down with me."

Steeling herself, she looked at him over her shoulder, her stomach turning as she watched him stroking himself. She glanced across the room and looked at his gun on the bedside table, its mere presence all he needed to keep her in line. Unlike she and her group, this man and the others were properly armed. Three days ago the only thing that stopped these men shooting them all on the spot was the offer she had made them, a desperate attempt to make sure they all stayed alive. Knowing it was she who got herself into this mess, she resigned herself to what she had to do. Pulling the hem of the gown as far down as it would go, she lay down on the bed and turned her back on Granger.

When he rolled over and placed his hand on her leg, Carrie kept her body relaxed. If he felt her cringing at his touch he would be mad. As she expected him to, he dragged his hands over her body at his leisure, but she quickly tuned him out, closing her eyes and letting her mind drift to someplace else. Christmas decorations in Manhattan, the Thanksgiving Day parade and summers at the beach…the one time she had tried to cook for Logan and had set their kitchen on fire. That had been one of the better days in their marriage, the two of them sitting on the fire escape eating last minute take out food while the fire department checked the damage. She had been so naive that day, never suspecting that her husband was having his second affair.

"Georgia...on my mind," Granger sang lowly, his breath hot on the back of her neck. Moving his hand from between her legs, he slid it under the satin robe and dragged it up her side. "I've got…sweet Georgia on my mind."

He was getting the words to the song wrong, a mistake that angered her more than it normally would. Pulling the robe tighter across her front, Carrie pinned her arm to her side to deter his hand from reaching her breast, and she heard his annoyed intake of breath. Against her will her body tensed, anticipating what he was going to do. The top of her breast was still throbbing from where he had bitten her, the pain echoed by the bite shaped bruise on the inside of her thigh.

"What's the problem?" he asked lowly, his voice tinged with contempt.

Taking a deep breath, Carrie steeled herself before answering. She had to stand up for herself…she had done frequently over the last few days, saying no to some things they had demanded of her. "I said you could have sex with me...not that you could hurt me."

A mocking laugh rumbled in his chest, his hand pushing her arm aside so that he could squeeze her breast anyway. "Come on, Georgia...I was just playing."

"You nearly made me bleed."

"A good man should," he insisted, pressing his teeth into the back of her shoulder.

She didn't have the opportunity to flinch away from him. A moment later he pushed her onto her front again, holding her down as he lifted the robe up to expose her lower half. Not giving him the satisfaction of her fear, Carrie just closed her eyes, knowing it was the best option. While ever he was in there with her, he wasn't out there with the others, taking advantage of them too. With h head turned just enough to hear, she felt her heart skip a beat when she realised she hadn't heard the sound of a foil packet tearing. She opened her eyes and pushed herself up onto her elbows, looking at him over her shoulder. Her suspicions had been right.

"Wait," she told him, her voice more stronger than she felt. "Condom."

Laughing at her again, Granger just shook his head. "There are none left."

"There are one hundred and forty boxes in the basement," she snapped at him. Fearful, she wriggled underneath him and managed to clench her legs together. "There was a coupon!"

"I don't like them."

"But I told you-"

"Like I believe an uptight bitch like you has the clap," he jeered, not believing the lie she had told them three days ago. "You wouldn't give it up enough to catch anything."

"I do," she insisted, sticking to her lie no matter what. She couldn't let him have sex with her without a condom, unable to bear the thought of what she could catch, or even worse, falling pregnant to him. "You have to-"

"Just stop talking," he growled, pushing her legs apart again.

Fighting to protect herself however she could, Carrie launched herself back against him and took him by surprise. With a spectacular shout Granger fell off the bed, and he tumbled to the floor naked and furious. Readjusting the robe, Carrie scrambled to the head of the bed, dragging the sheet up and over herself as if it would protect her. With a furious growl he launched himself at her, using his weight to pin her down.

"No!" she shouted loudly, making herself clear. "Use a condom, or I'm saying no!"

"Georgia. We had an agreement," he growled, his hand coming up and sliding around her neck. "You don't get to say no."

Going still beneath him, she looked him in the eye, her resolve strong. "Yes, I do. Use a condom, or you can get yourself off...I don't care which."

A long moment of silence passed, Carrie looking him in the eye as he glared at her. He clenched his hand around her neck, making her struggle even though she could still draw a little breath. "Luckily for you, I'm not in the mood anymore," he snarled, though he made the point of stretching himself out and bearing all of his weight upon her. "Now you listen closely, because this is important."

When she didn't immediately respond, he tightened his hand around her neck until she nodded as best she could. Her lower jaw trembling as she tried to keep it together, she sought comfort by closing her eyes.

"All bets are off."

Finished with her, he released her throat and then used the centre of her chest to push himself up. Spitting on her, he ensured he dug his knees and elbows in anywhere he could as he got up. Laying deathly still, she listened as he pulled on his trousers and opened the door, his abrupt departure shocking her. As she lay immobile, it took a few moments for it to dawn on her that he was gone. Slowly sitting up, she used the sheet to wipe his saliva off her face, flinching as she aggravated her black eye. Releasing the breath she had been holding, tears began pouring down her cheeks as she let herself crumble in privacy. A few cathartic sobs escaped her lips before she forced herself to stop. She couldn't display any kind of weakness, or else their whole agreement would be in jeopardy.

Needing to wash her face, she readjusted the satin robe and moved to the edge of the bed, freezing when she saw what had been left on the bedside table. The gold handgun, messily spray painted by its owner, sat inconspicuously on the bedside table, taunting her. She had hardly handled a gun since that awful night when a stray shot from her weapon had struck Wade, the man who had saved her in Atlanta. Thoughts of killing herself had crossed her mind many times since the outbreak, and they crossed her mind again today…but only for a moment. She couldn't opt out and leave her group behind, not when what she was doing was the only thing that was keeping them safe.

Another thought crossed her mind too, that of taking the gun and simply filling Granger's head with bullets, but that thought disappeared as quickly as it had come. Even if she did manage to successfully get him under her control, she still had three other men to contend with, and they too were armed. Getting to her feet instead, she took her bottle of water and headed to the en suite bathroom, flinching a little as she began walking. It was sore between her legs, though this came as no surprise. She closed the bathroom door and then vigorously brushed her teeth until she felt marginally cleaner. Trying to conserve the water as much as she could, she tipped it into her hand and washed her tear stained face. There would be no point in trying to clean herself up any further than that, not if someone else was coming to take their turn with her.

Though she didn't want to, Carrie raised her head and observed her reflection in the mirror. It was somewhat surprising to see herself staring back, part of her having expected to see someone else. It sure felt that anyway, that she had become someone else during the last few days, but her reflection still brought her a flicker of comfort. Though her pale skin only illuminated the black eye the man Victor had given her, she still recognised herself in her reflection. While the blue eyes looking back at her were not as bright as normal, she found her reflection didn't look quite as broken down as she felt inside. It gave her enough confidence to hold her head high, to endure what she had to for the sake of her group.

With that in mind, Carrie returned to the bedroom and straightened up the sheets, covering the wet patch on the left hand side in the hopes of avoiding it when someone else came in for her. Feeling hopeful, she wondered if it might be Ross who came in next, the long delay indicating that it might be him. He alone was the decent one among the group that had attacked Carrie's, and she often asked herself what he was doing with them. The first time he had been allowed in to have sex with her, he had turned away from where she sat naked on the bed, looking only to toss the robe at her and tell her to put it on. An hour later after sitting in silence, he had abruptly asked if she was capable of making herself cry. Confused, she had shaken her head negatively. It was then that he hit her across the cheek, the force of his strength knocking her over. Tears of shock had fallen then, giving him the evidence he needed to deceive the others.

He wouldn't sleep with her, but he wouldn't tell the others that either.

Taking a long drink of water to ease her headache, she breathed deeply as she tried to mentally prepare herself for what was coming next. If it was Ross, she would be fine. If it was Seth or Victor she would be…trying not to think about it too much, she peered at the golden gun Granger had left behind, frowning as she pondered his parting words.

"All bets are off."

Given his distaste for losing, Carrie hardly believed that he was giving up. He wouldn't let her win the argument they had...he wouldn't let a woman call the shots. Wondering exactly what he meant by those words, she thought about the deal they had reached, the agreement that they wouldn't harm the others and that they'd only do what she consented to. It was their sick way of making what they did less like sexual coercion, and more like a transaction. Increasingly worried, she hunted around in the dim room for a pair of clean underwear. Pulling them on, she ran her fingers through her hair and tied the robe around herself, wishing that it covered just a little more of her legs.

Stepping out of the bedroom that had been her prison for the last three days, she quietly slipped across the hallway and descended the staircase, her footsteps light and undetected. Feeling as though she were a child sneaking out of bed, she looked around for any sign of Granger, Victor or Seth, both glad they weren't there, and worried about where they might be. She found Sue and Tim in the living room, listening to the broadcasts from Terminus that had been tempting them for so many weeks now. They looked up at her as she entered the living room, their eyes wide with surprise. She had made only one appearance since the new group attacked, and her sudden arrival today must have taken them by surprise. To her horror, Tim immediately stood up and came to her, and she could tell he was trying to hide something.

"Carrie," he whispered, blocking her from the next doorway. He gave a grimace, cradling the broken arm that had been courtesy of Seth. A timid, older man, Tim hadn't been able to do much to protect their group. "What are you doing out here?"

Though she knew he didn't mean it the way she took it, she felt a sting of betrayal. "Jesus, Tim. You sound like one of them." Still worried, she looked through the front window and saw that Jenna was on watch out on the porch, which accounted for her whereabouts. Sue and Tim were right in front of her, and that left... "Where's Shannon?"

Sue stood up suddenly, coming closer so that she could whisper. "Carrie...I tried to convince them not to, but he said that-"

"He said what?" she whispered, suspecting she was talking about Granger.

Looking highly uncomfortable, Sue carefully chose her words. "Granger and Victor…they said you came to an agreement about Shannon."

Feeling the blood drain from her face, Carrie looked at Sue in horror, unable to believe what she had just heard. She didn't need clarification, she didn't need them to spell out what Granger's twisted mind had come up with as a way to punish her. Shoving Tim out of her way, Carrie raced through the living room and burst into the quaint kitchen, the hollow door loudly hitting the wall behind it. Her sudden arrival startled the three people inside, none more so than thirteen year old Shannon. While Granger watched on, Shannon was crouched on her knees in front of Victor's open jeans, but upon seeing Carrie she launched herself back to her feet with a mixture of relief and fear.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she screamed, bursting forward and grasping a handful of Shannon's shirt. Wrenching her away, she practically dragged Shannon back across the kitchen to stand behind her. She turned to Granger and Victor. "I did not agree to this!"

Victor just laughed, having made quite vocal protests the day she made him agree to stay away from Shannon. But despite their former agreement, he made no effort to hide what he had been trying to coax a thirteen year old into doing for him. Pushing himself up, he sat on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs and looking over at Granger.

"I did say all bets are off," Granger shrugged nonchalantly.

Infuriated, Carrie roughly lead Shannon over to the door. "Go on watch with Jenna."

"She's gotta learn how to please me one day!" Victor laughed.

"Carrie," Shannon whispered urgently, grabbing her arm. "It's alright...You shouldn't have to do it all, I know what to - "

"Go on watch, now!" Though she shouldn't be, for surely she couldn't expect Shannon to have any comprehension of what she was saying, she was furious with her for even making such a suggestion. "Do as you're told."

As Shannon left with an anguished look back, Carrie breathed a sigh of relief, counting every step Shannon took as a success. Filled with loathing, she looked at the two men over her shoulder, sickened by the way they were laughing merrily. Completely unashamed, Granger just shrugged his shoulders at her.

"We need to talk," she said firmly. Folding her arms, she squared herself and began to stand her ground. She was far from confident, horribly aware of how much stronger and more powerful they were, but she didn't have let them know that. "Now."

They laughed again, Granger shaking his head to himself as he gestured for Victor to give them a few moments. Doing as he was told, Victor slid down from the bench and fixed his jeans, smiling at her as he walked past.

"I'll wait for her," he said as he began to leave. "I'll teach her everything she needs to know."

Clenching her jaw, Carrie refused to rise to his torments, knowing he was only trying to unsettle her. Instead she focused her energies on staring Granger down, wishing she had the power to rattle him, even just a little. Just like every other time, he smiled and shrugged his shoulders at her.

"What can I say?" he pondered, sliding off the bench and crossing the kitchen towards her. "Shannon is more Victor's type than mine. She's too young…ain't even got tits yet."

Carrie felt a strange moment of clarity, a flash of conviction before she found herself attacking Granger in a crazed frenzy. Releasing everything that had been pent up for days, for the months before that too, she started hitting him, a deal seated madness taking over as she kicked and shoved him. She could hear herself screaming at him, could hear the sound of smashing china as she tried and failed to hit him with a plate, and then a glass. Despite her mediocre attack, it was a relief to feel, her violent reaction providing the cathartic release that unfortunately only lasted seconds. Still laughing, Granger overpowered her with great ease, using her own momentum against her. In seconds he had her pinned to the kitchen floor, letting her keep kicking and scratching for as long as he saw fit. He grinned down at her in pride, pleased that she was fighting him, that he was getting the desired reactions.

"What? Done already, Georgia?" he asked, disappointed when she went still. "Huh? Answer me."

Closing her eyes, Carrie gave a short nod. "I'm done."

With a long sigh he pushed himself up to his feet, taking her by the arm and pulling her up too. As though she were his lover and not his victim, he straightened up her robe and then brushed the hair off her face, though she wasn't stupid enough to mistake this for acts of care. There was a pause as the dust settled, and though a mournful howl of anguish wanted burst out of her throat, Carrie quashed it down before she could do any more damage to the little power she held.

"You were supposed to leave two days ago," she finally managed to say, her voice tight and heavy.

"And the dead are supposed to stay dead," he replied factually.

"We have an agreement." She clenched her jaw as he slipped his hand underneath the robe and caressed the back of her thigh. "When are you leaving?"

Sliding his hand up to caress the curve of her ass, he smirked as he leant down and whispered into her ear. "When I'm finished." As if to further his words, he pinched her harshly, the gesture not at all like the playful pinch a lover might give. "Go on, back upstairs. Don't forget…if you're not up there taking care of us, we'll just find it elsewhere. Understand?"

"Yes," she said, knowing he expected an answer.

Her skin throbbed where he had pinched her, the discomfort echoed down into the bruise on her inner thigh. Resigned to her fate, she quietly left the kitchen before any more could be said. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, she wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere dark and just sleep. The fight was gone from her…she'd expended it all. Entering the living room, she looked through the front window and made sure she could see Shannon sitting by Jenna's side, and only then did she head towards the staircase.

"Carrie," Sue whispered apologetically, rushing to catch her. "Carrie, wait."

Ignoring her apologies, she brushed past Sue and Tim, too drained to even tell them what cowards they were. Readjusting the robe around her, she quietly headed back upstairs, passing Ross and Seth who were descending. She avoided eye contact with both of them, but as she expected Seth reached out and grabbed her elbow as she tried to pass.

"I'll be up there soon," he said, as if she actually needed reminding.

Ignoring what he said, she wrenched her elbow out of his hand and continued up the stairs, feeling a small bout of hope as she heard Ross telling him to pull his head in, to leave her alone. When she reached her room she left the door slightly ajar before sinking down onto the bed. Pulling the sheets up and over herself, she closed her eyes and tried to get some rest, trying to soothe the ache in the pit of her stomach. Three days ago she had been thinking about how safe they felt in this neighbourhood, how lucky they had been to find the enormous food source thanks to one lady's coupon addiction...she realised now that she had tempted fate.

She knew what she should have done three days ago, that she should have killed these men the moment she realised they were a threat to her group's safety. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it, to outright kill someone. While she'd done it before, once by accident and twice out of mercy, the notion of simply gunning those men down where they stood just wasn't something she could see herself doing. Three days later, having naively believed that letting each of them take what they wanted from her would be enough, she was questioning whether or not she was doing the right thing.

There was quiet chatter from downstairs, an unusual occurrence for the last three days. The house that was normally filled with as much laughter as they could manage, largely thanks to Shannon's antics, had been almost silent since the arrival of the new group, knowing that any aggravation would only hurt Carrie. But now there were tones of conversation, and Carrie couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about. Sue and Tim had been listening to the Terminus broadcast when she was down there earlier…were they making plans for that? Jenna had been quite vocal in not wanting to go, but Carrie was the opposite…as soon as she could convince the others, she'd be setting off for Terminus and never looking back.

Her ears pricked up again as she heard Shannon's name come up in conversation, her heart fluttering in fear. Praying that it was just Tim and Sue talking about her, Carrie swallowed heavily, still horrified by what Victor had almost convinced the teenager to do for him. He had absolutely no shame for what he was doing to Carrie, but until now she thought he'd draw the line at actually taking advantage of Shannon…sickened by the thought, she wondered how on earth she was going o let this man touch her again now that she knew the type of thoughts that went through his head.

Hearing the front door open again, Carrie felt a flicker of worry. Getting up, she quickly slipped through the bedroom door and into the hallway, crouching down so that she could get the right angle. From her vantage point, she just managed to see the top of Jenna's head as she reentered the house, leaving Shannon alone on watch. Annoyed by the new display of stupidity, for surely Jenna knew what had almost happened to the poor girl, Carrie wondered what to do, whether she should go downstairs and intervene. Just as she decided to go back into her room, she heard the heavy footsteps of Victor as he strutted through the living room. Hesitating, she waited for him to come to the staircase and look up at her, smirking as he said something to try and rile her up for another argument.

But to her horror he didn't come for the staircase. Instead, she saw the top of his head as he approached the front door, and she had no doubt about why he was going outside. She waited just a second for one of her group members to say something, for them to stop him going outside and being alone with Shannon…but they didn't. Furious with the cowardice shown by people she trusted, Carrie saw red for a second time, and everything she had been through since the outbreak came to a peak inside of her. She was the only one who was going to do anything…the only one who understood what was at stake for Shannon, and she had to do something about it.

"Victor!" she shouted angrily, launching herself to her feet. Racing down the stairs, she grabbed a porcelain knick knack from the corner shelf and held it tightly. The moment he came into her sights she threw it at him, satisfied when it shattered across his face, a streak of blood appearing on his cheek.

He growled like an animal wounded, his face twisting in fury as he raised his hand to his cheek and felt the blood there. "You stupid bitch!" he yelled at her, Seth suddenly appearing out of nowhere and grabbing him as he lunged. Stopped by the arm around his chest, Victor's fury drained away into laughter, and seconds later he was smiling at Carrie as though in admiration. "Oh, just you wait, Bitch…it's on now," he taunted her, shrugging Seth off and flexing his shoulders.

As though on instinct, his right hand drifted towards the holster on his hip, and Carrie saw the precise moment when he went to wrap his hand around his gun. He faltered a little, his brow pinching as he turned and looked at his empty holster, confused. Suddenly realising where he had left his gun, he gave a feral yell and lunged for her again, stopped only by Seth who didn't yet understand.

Carrie bolted back to the first floor, she too realising where the gun was. Knowing she had started something that had to be finished, she made a split second about what way it was going to go down. When these men had arrived on her doorstep three days ago, their guns drawn and their eyes alight with intent to kill, Carrie had stood down. Her group had a gun, but she couldn't bear the thought of killing anyone. She knew that's how some people had to survive these days, but until now she'd largely avoided the worst of what the outbreak had done to humanity. She'd killed three people already; two from mercy, and one by accident…she didn't want that number to grow.

Now though, the situation had come to a head, and she knew she had to do it. The deal had gone bad from the very beginning, and while at first she thought she could cope, she knew she couldn't do it any more. Not like this…not if they were going to hurt Shannon too. Not protecting Shannon would mean that everything she had been through; the humiliation, the degradation…it would be for nothing.

Hearing someone in hot pursuit, Carrie sprinted across the bedroom and practically fell upon the gun, knowing that it was loaded. Pausing only long enough to turn off the safety switch, she wheeled around and pointed it at the person who had chased her up the stairs. She fired three times and Seth fell where he stood, his hand clutching his stomach as his gun went flying back. Carrie watched it's arc as it disappeared out of sight, loudly clattering down the wooden staircase.

Stepping over Seth, Carrie flew down the stairs, feeling a surge of justified power as she saw Victor scrambling to grab the falling gun. She fired at him and missed spectacularly, but the gunshot was enough to make him stop. Hearing Sue screaming, Carrie took a deep breath and slowly descended the stairs, pointing Victor's own weapon at him. There was a mad scramble of doors opening and people bursting in, and while she was dimly aware that Granger and Ross had both appeared, their guns pointed at her threateningly, she didn't care. Indulging herself, she looked at the expression of fear on Victor's face, wondering how many times he had seen that on hers.

Glancing up for a moment, she took note of the two guns pointed at her, indifferent to their presence. Instead she looked for Shannon…she stood in the very corner behind Jenna and Tim, who for once were actually doing their part to protect her. Turning back to Victor now, she told him to get down on his knees, feeling immensely satisfied when he slowly did as he was told. He looked at her with a mixed expression of pride and fear.

"I knew you were fiery, Georgia," he said, taunting her with the fake name she had given him.

"That's not my name," she smiled, pleased to see a flash of annoyance cross Victor's face. They didn't like it when she defied them.

"What are you going to do then, huh?" Granger laughed next. "You got my gun, sure…you got two others pointed at you too."

Knowing he was right, Carrie turned her attention back to the aforementioned weapons, trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this. She couldn't use her body to her advantage this time, but she didn't need it. Her co-workers had always laughed that she could talk other people into anything, a talent that was often advantageous in the world of business and advertising.

"Ross," she said quietly, looking him in the eye as she considered her words. "You haven't hurt me yet."

Ross shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting over to Granger and Victor. They didn't know he wouldn't have sex with her, that the hours in which he spent alone with her were spent in silence. But there was no use hiding it now, not when it had come to this.

"You haven't hurt me yet," she reminded him, appealing to his rational side. "Please don't start now, Ross…please."

He looked at her long and hard, but Carrie knew what he was going to do, perhaps even before he did. Despite his association with the other men, she trusted him…he was different, and he wanted nothing to do with the agreement that had been made three days ago. Finally, he let out a slow breath and turned his rifle on Granger instead, the other man's eyes widening comically.

"Ross. What the fuck?" he growled.

"Put it down," Ross told him, one of the rare times Carrie actually heard him speak. "Don't be an idiot."

Carrie waited until Granger reluctantly lowered the gun he had pointed at her, feeling her heart fill with elation when he finally did. Watching as he lowered it to the ground and took a step back, she turned her attention to Victor instead. Moving closer, for this was a shot she didn't want to miss, she held the gun in one hand and killed him. His head jerked back as though she had kicked him, his body crumbling down to the floor with a thud. The bullet hole in the centre of his forehead assured her he wouldn't be getting up again.

Everything after that happened as though in a dream. Trusting Ross to keep his gun on Granger, she told him to kneel, and again she enjoyed the look of fear on his face. Looking at him now, she thought about what he had done to her, the violence he had inflicted. Moving behind him, she searched him for any hidden weapons and then took out the cable ties he kept in the back pocket. Looking at the marks around each of her wrists, she thought about when he had restrained her the previous day, the way he pulled the cable ties so tight that her hands went numb…he wouldn't let her out of them for over an hour, and she could still feel the agony of the circulation returning. Feeling an intense satisfaction, she tied his hands behind his back, wrenching the plastic restraints as tight as she could.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" he asked dejectedly, his eyes focused on Victor's corpse a few feet away.

Carrie paused, considering this. "No, I'm not going to kill you," she decided. Flexing her hand around his gun, she considered her many options, her mind continually bringing her back to one idea in particular. Given everything Granger had done to her, it seemed rather fitting. "I think I can do better. Get up."

"Carrie?" Jenna said tentatively. "You should just-"

"Shannon," she began, cutting Jenna off. She grasped Granger's arm as she tossed his keys to the teen. "You're driving."

"Where are we going?"

"Out. Take that gun, that one over there."

"What the hell are you doing?" Tim hissed at her. "Carrie, you can't leave us with him!" he whispered, gesturing to Ross.

"You can trust him," she said with certainty, looking at Ross as she said this.

Never speaking when a gesture was enough, Ross nodded, lowering his rifle and offering it to Jenna to carry. He looked at Carrie abjectly, but she neither needed nor wanted his apologies. She turned to Sue, Tim and Jenna again, still disgusted by their poor efforts to protect Shannon.

"I shot him in the stomach," she said bluntly, indicating to Seth who lay upstairs. "Do something useful for once and make sure he doesn't reanimate."

Grabbing a cushion so that Shannon could see over the steering wheel, Carrie lead Granger out of the house, the golden gun pressed against his side as they walked. Needing only a brief, whispered conversation about where to go, Shannon took the driver's seat of the pick up truck and started the engine while Carrie shoved Granger into the back tray and climbed up after him. Fixing some cable ties around his ankles, she made sure they were painfully tight before sitting back on her heels and looking at him. His face was expressionless, his lack of emotion frustrating her. While she had tried and failed to hide her emotions from him, he was far more adept.

She hadn't bothered getting properly dressed before they left, and she was clad only in her underwear and the short satin robe she had worn for days. Grateful that it was a hot summer's day, Carrie unwound the sash from the robe and let it flutter open. Not caring that she exposed herself to him again, for this time he couldn't touch her, she wound the sash around his head to cover his eyes, tying it in a firm knot. Satisfied that he wouldn't be able to see where they were going, she situated herself on the other side of the tray where she would be able to hold on, holding the gun just in case he was stupid enough to try something.

She hammered her fist against the cabin of the truck, telling Shannon that she was ready. Sparing her group one last look, Carrie hung on as Shannon started off down the road, already a competent driver at only thirteen. They found no trouble as they drove through the neighbourhood, Shannon carefully swerving around any Biters that they came towards. In a few minutes they had reached the main road, Shannon putting her foot on the gas to get them to their destination as quickly as possible.

Feeling the summer breeze whipping through her hair, Carrie took a chance and dragged her eyes away from Granger. Titling her head, she stopped clutching the robe to her chest and let it go, allowing the hot Georgia sun to kiss her skin. Despite having a career that was largely office based, Carrie was happiest when she was outside in the sun, enjoying everything it had to offer. Freed from the dark prison of her bedroom, the sun was all that much better now that she knew her ordeal was over. Though she had added two more to the number of people she had killed, bringing her total to five, she felt entirely justified, and she knew she would sleep easily that night.

They travelled north for an hour, Granger behaving himself and moving only to lay down. He didn't complain about the bindings on his wrists and ankles, knowing that he had done the same thing to her the previous day. By the time the pick up started slowing down as they approached their destination, Carrie was relaxed and happy once more, feeling the weight of her burden lifted off her shoulders. Focusing, she tentatively stood up in the back of the pick up and looked forward, shielding her eyes against the wind. Looking around the familiar streets, she started feeling nervous, knowing what it was they they would find here soon. Having scavenged though this town a month ago, Carrie knew exactly where there would be Walkers, that the effort of going uphill meant they generally congregated at the bottom of the steep hills.

As Shannon began to slow down again, Carrie peered around the side of the pick up to make sure that the windows were closed, that she'd be safe in there. Satisfied, she watched their progress through the town, keeping watch of Granger from the corner of her eye. Just as he had this entire journey, he behaved himself, either resigned to his fate or waiting before he made his move. A few minutes later they were almost there, and so Carrie shuffled across the back of the pick up, the gun still pointed at him as she reached for his feet. She clumsily cut the cable ties around his ankles, glad to see his sigh of relief that indicated he had been suffering. Just as she was considering how to cut the ties around his hands without exposing herself to his attack, she felt the truck slowing down to a crawl.

Not willing to risk getting too close enough to cut his hands out of the cable ties, Carrie put the knife aside and roughly yanked off the sash she had tied around his eyes. Leaping back from him, still frightened that he might make some attempt on her, she smiled as he blinked in confusion, squinting uncomfortably against the light. As they reached the bottom of the hill the Biters there began to come towards them, and so she stood up and braced herself against the cabin. Quickly glancing around, Carrie was pleased to see that the bottom of the hill was abundant in Biters, that she was going to get exactly what she wanted.

Granger began to grit his teeth, a seething expression crossing his face as he realised his fate. "Don't you think this is a little inhumane?" he growled. "Huh?" he shouted at her, trying to stand up.

"Don't even think about it," she told him, pointing the gun not at his head, but his leg. "A bullet to the knee will only make this harder for you."

His upper lip curling furiously, Granger let out a slew of expletives, making her quite relieved that Shannon couldn't hear what he was saying. She took everything he had to say, every degrading insult he threw at her, because she knew this was the end of it all.

"Are you done now?"

On his knees, Granger panted as he leant away from the side of the pick up's tray, trying to avoid the Biter that was reaching for him. With their speed as slow as it was many more were catching up with them, which only suited Carrie's purpose even better.

"You should have just shot me. Could have saved all this gas."

"Shooting you would be satisfying," she admitted. "But I would rather have sex with you ten times over, than be torn apart by Biters. So this is your parting gift to me."

"Are you even going to untie my hands?" he asked, trying to bargain with her.

She shook her head. "No. I only untied your feet because I want to see you run," she said plainly, already beginning to feel the immense satisfaction she sought. "I want to watch these Biters take you down."

There was a long pause, Granger staring up at her with possibly the most vile look she had ever received. With great pleasure, she dismissively waved her hand at him, ushering him to get out.

"Go on," she prompted loudly. "Go!"

To his credit, Granger didn't hesitate a moment longer. Resolutely determined to fight his fate, he awkwardly scrambled to his feet, contemplating the gun she held. With gritted teeth he turned his back on her, clumsily kicking at a few of the Biters. His hands still cable tied behind his back meant he struggled to keep his balance, and he wobbled precariously as he kicked at the Biters again, trying to clear a space where he could jump down. Holding on to the roof of the cabin, Carrie watched as he teetered with momentary hesitation, and she resisted the urge to give him a shove. All she needed was to watch.

Granger didn't look back. Taking a chance he leapt off the back of the pick up, his inability to balance meaning he tumbled straight onto the ground. A little sluggish to react, the Biters nearest him slowly turned back for him, the volume of their snarls increasing with excitement as they began lunging for him. Holding her breath, Carrie watched as they converged on him, pleased to see him get up and make a run for it. He stumbled and fell again, and as the Biters closed in she struggled to get a decent look.

"Carrie," Shannon called from inside the cabin, struggling to make herself be heard without putting the window down. "Carrie, can we go now?"

Ignoring her for now, Carrie watched as a couple of the Biters fell back, oblivious to those that were surrounding the pick up. Granger was back on his feet again, and she could just make out the sight of blood on his cheek. He charged at a few of them, knocking them over as he made another run for it. He hollered in satisfaction, turning back to Carrie to gloat. Unperturbed, she just shrugged her shoulders. There were plenty more Biters closing in, and she quite happily kept watching as he kicked them, struggling to keep up as more and more converged on him.

"Carrie!" Shannon was shouting, pounding on the window to get her attention. "Carrie, please! We have to go, please!"

Clenching her teeth in frustration, Carrie forced herself to stop ignoring Shannon. She had a responsibility to the teenager, and she'd already endangered her life enough by bringing her along in the first place. She hesitated a little longer, needing to see Granger go down, to watch the Biters tearing apart as he howled the way she had wanted to for the last three days. But unable to ignore Shannon's panic, Carrie pounded her fist on the roof in agreement, quickly hanging on for dear life. Shannon hit the gas, ramming the pick up against the Biters that surrounded the front. Desperately still trying to watch, Carrie caught a glimpse of Granger as he tried to outrun the Biters, hopefully preparing herself for the moment he went down.

But her hope was short lived, and before she could see any more Shannon violently turned the pick up to the right, obscuring Carrie's view. Looking over the top of the roof, Carrie watched in relief as Shannon hastily surged through the Biters and found a clear path, hitting the gas again and sending them flying. Taking the absolute last opportunity, Carrie desperately looked for Granger, but had to resign herself to missing it. There weren't even any agonising howls for her to revel in, not with the way Shannon was tearing through the streets. But it was over now, and so she was forced to be content with what she had done.

When they were gone from the town and back on the open road, Carrie lay down and spread her limbs out like she was a star, parting her robe and making sure the sun could reach all parts of her skin. Immense relief washed over her, her heart swelling with the comfort of knowing that she was safe again, that it was done with. Finally doing what she ought to have done three days ago, she had liberated herself…she had done that, no one else had. They were all dead now, Granger suffering the fate she couldn't bear the thought of enduring herself…it was over now.

* * *

"Holy fuck," Granger said in awe, grinning menacingly. "Well if it ain't little Miss Georgia from the state of Georgia."

Her heart pounding in her throat, Carrie's lips moved in silent argument, her voice failing her. Rendered speechless, it felt as though her whole body was made of lead, that she was fixed to the spot where she lay for the rest of eternity. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak. All she could do was lay there in shock, letting him laugh at her.

"Aren't you going to say hello to me?" he asked, tilting his head as he looked at her.

She tried to answer him, she really did, because she knew what would happen if she didn't. Violence was his first solution for disobedience, but no matter the threat against her she couldn't form the words. Her fingernails dug into the palm of her hand as she tried to breathe properly, trying to remember how that worked. Granger was coming towards her now, smirking as he pulled back the slide on his gun and let it snap forward.

Panicking, Carrie scrambled backwards to get away from him, and her shoulder bumped into one of the work benches in her haste. A box of tiny screws fell and scattered across the floor, Granger laughing as he stumbled on a few of them. In her haste Carrie did not think through what she was doing, and she quickly backed herself right into the corner, leaving her with no place to go, no way to protect herself. In the back of her mind her instincts were telling her to draw one of her guns, defend herself. But paralysed with fear, she did nothing as Granger came and towered over her on the ground. His gun was raised now, pointed square between her eyes as he looked at her. Looking immensely pleased with himself, he slowly began lowering it, drawing a line down her chin and then between her breasts before moving even lower.

Pointing it at her crotch now, Granger smiled. "It's loaded this time."

Against her will a low moan rumbled in her throat, involuntarily remembering the way he had terrorised her, the way he enjoyed her fear. The first time he had sex with her back at the couponer's house, he had pushed the tip of his gun between her legs and threatened to pull the trigger. When he actually did she had screamed before realising that the gun wasn't loaded, that she was okay. Next time it will be loaded. Looking at the gun pointed at her now, Carrie stayed deathly still, not wanting to give him any reason to follow through with his threat to shoot her.

"Step away from her."

She had never been so relieved to hear Rick's voice, and her shoulders sagged in relief upon seeing him. She watched his silhouette moving through the garage, and stepped into the light. He held the M4 ready to fire, his gaze fixed firmly on Granger.

"Oh hey," Granger said, turning around and looking at Rick. He gave him a confident smile, demonstrating that he wasn't perturbed by his arrival. "The name's Granger…you must be Rick?"

"Step away from her, now," Rick growled, coming closer. His finger was poised on the trigger, his expression one that indicated he shouldn't be messed with.

Looking back at Carrie, Granger gave a long sigh of exasperation. "Not exactly the reunion I was hoping for," he commented.

Unexpectedly, he crouched down in front of her, his close proximity making Carrie moan in fear. She wanted to get away from him, to pull her legs up to her chest, but the threat of his gun pointed at her crotch kept her as still as possible. Rick was shouting now, his finger poised on the trigger as he came closer again, but Granger seemed unconcerned.

"Shoot me now, asshole," he growled, looking at Rick over his shoulder. "A rifle like that…that bullet will go straight through me and into her. Isn't that right?"

There was a long pause, Carrie's eyes fixed firmly on Granger, watching him, waiting for any indication that he was going to shoot. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt, her breaths coming in short, panicked gasps no matter how hard she tried to keep it together. As the silence stretched on she wished she could see Rick properly, that she could know what he was doing, how he was going to get them out of this.

"Good, we have an understanding. Now back the fuck up," Granger instructed him, wasting no time. "Back up, now!"

Carrie waited for Rick to do something, for him to make his move. But when a brief moment of silence passed, the only thing she heard was the sound of a single footstep.

"Further," Granger told him. "More…more."

Rick took two more steps back and then stopped, ignoring Granger when he prompted him again. Giving a long sigh, Granger turned back to Carrie and gave her a wry smile. "I'll give him this much credit…he's almost as obedient as you."

Before she could react to this, Granger grasped the front of her jacket and roughly pulled her up off the floor. Completely non-resistant, Carrie did her best to stand up, her boot slipping on the floor and making her stumble. She caught sight of Rick as she stood, and just as she made to go over to him Granger tugged her back. Revulsion swelled in her stomach as slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, using her as a human shield. But despite this, instincts kicked in on her behalf, and she found herself raising her hands in the air when instructed.

"Now there, that's better," Granger declared, slipping his hand under her shirt and touching her stomach. "Shoot me now. I dare you."

Still holding the M4 ready, Rick blankly stared at Granger, taking a few moments to gauge the threat as the dust settled. The two men sized one another up while Carrie struggled to catch her breath, her heart racing as she tried to ignore the way Granger was touching her, the way he pressed himself against her back. She looked over at Rick, silently begging him to do something. Shoot him, she thought to herself. Please…shoot him! But Rick did nothing of the sort. His eyes flicked between Carrie and Granger before he seemed to pause, his brow furrowing as he titled his head to the side and peered at something behind her. Beginning to look worried, Rick suddenly did something entirely unexpected.

He moved his finger off the trigger.

A/N Thank you for the reviews guys, they're so encouraging to read and I enjoy them so much. And a big thank you to all those who have favourited this story and have it on their alerts.

By the way, **angie b**...message me walkerwalkerchick outlook . com (no spaces)


	26. Chapter 26

Rick stepped out of the garage for one second, and that was all it took for this asshole to slip in behind him. Operating under the presumption that the house was likely occupied, he had lingered outside the door and looked around, searching for any sign that his and Carrie's presence had been detected. Conscious of how quickly they wanted to get out of there, he had taken the inactivity as a stroke of good fortune, hopeful that just maybe things were going in his favour today. Heading back around to where they had left the empty gas containers, he made his first mistake by leaving Carrie completely on her own. The moment he heard shouting he knew he had screwed up. Abandoning any thoughts of gas, he swiftly brought the M4 back into his arms and returned to the door on the other side of the garage. Having only a vague idea of what he might find, he entered with the gun raised,

He was unsurprised to find Carrie sprawled out in the floor, a broad shouldered stranger pointing his gun between her eyes. Fully prepared to shoot first and ask questions later, Rick poised his finger on the trigger as he stepped closer, needing a better shot so that he didn't put Carrie at risk, but what this person did next took him by surprise. Moving closer so that he positively towered over her, they began moving the gun in a downward motion, bringing it to a stop when it pointed at her lower abdomen. Shrinking away as much as she could, Carrie clenched her eyes closed as he said something to her.

"Step away from her."

Carrie gave a visible sigh of relief upon hearing his voice, her shoulders sagging as she lay on the ground. But Rick was barely paying attention to her, moving through the garage and stepping into the light. His gaze firmly focused on the asshole in front of him, who was annoyingly unperturbed by his arrival, he held his finger on the trigger.

"Oh, hey," the man said, turning around and looking at Rick. His smile was confident, a contrast to the hard an angular features of his face. Stocky and broad shouldered, his tightly cropped hair accentuated his deep set eyes. "The name's Granger…you must be Rick?"

"Step away from her now," he growled angrily, taking a few steps closer.

Looking back at Carrie, Granger gave a long sigh of exasperation as he did was he was told. "Not exactly the reunion I was hoping for," he commented.

Rick's heart leapt as the man suddenly crouched down in front of Carrie, the quick movement ensuring that there was no way Rick could shoot him without risking Carrie. "Get up!" he shouted angrily, stepping closer. Seething with fury, his finger twitched on the trigger, tempted to blow this guy's head away at close range…he could do it…he just have to get the right angle so as to not harm Carrie.

"Shoot me now, asshole," he laughed, looking at Rick over his shoulder. "A rifle like that…that bullet will go straight through me and into her. Isn't that right?"

Rick did not answer this, knowing that he was right. There was a long pause, the only sound being Carrie's short, gasping breaths. It was difficult seeing past this guy, Granger, his broad shoulders blocking his sight of Carrie, but he could see her legs. Despite her trembling, he knew that she was trying to stay still.

"Good, we have an understanding. Now back the fuck up," Granger instructed. "Back up, now!"

Coming to a decision, Rick cautiously took a step back…whether he liked it or now, he had to play ball here. All it would take was one twitch, and this guy would shoot Carrie without hesitation.

"Further," Granger told him. "More…more."

Rick took two more steps back and then stopped, ignoring the next prompt to keep going. He'd play ball, but he wouldn't bend over and let this guy completely screw him. Giving a long sigh, Granger turned back to Carrie. "I'll give him this much credit…he's almost as obedient as you."

Before Rick could process any confusion over this comment, Granger grabbed Carrie by the lapels of her jacket and hauled her up off the floor. She came compliantly, her legs weak with fear and her boots slipping on the floor. A flash of hope crossed her face as she stood upright, and for a second it looked as though she was going to rush to his side before Granger tugged her back. Unable to do anything without putting her at risk, Rick was forced to watch as Granger pulled her back against his front, slinging his arm around the waist to create a human shield. So infuriated by what he was seeing, Rick clenched his jaw as Granger whispered something to her. A second later she raised her hands into the air.

"Now there, that's better," Granger declared. To Rick's disgust, he slid his hand under Carrie's shirt, spreading his hand out across her lower stomach and rubbing it. "Shoot me now. I dare you."

Not rising to his baiting, Rick blankly stared at him, taking a few moments to gauge the threat as the dust settled. His eyes darted over to Carrie, seeing the way she shuddered as Granger kept rubbing her stomach, pressing himself up against her back. Her fear was obvious, her lower jaw trembling as she struggled to keep herself together. She looked at Rick desperately, and he knew what she was trying to tell him without words. But he couldn't…shooting Granger would put her at risk. There was little light by which to properly see, and Granger was almost completely shielded behind her. He'd have to take a risk, of course he would, but it needed to be carefully measured, an action that was well conceived and thought out.

Sizing this man up, he looked him over and tried to figure out his next move, tried to anticipate how Granger would let this play out. But just as Carrie shuddered and made Granger readjust his footing, Rick caught sight of something that made his heart drop even further into the pit of his stomach. His brow furrowed as he titled his head to the side and tried to get a better look, a shiver running down his spine as he realised what it was. Sticking out of the pocket of Granger's jeans was a hand held radio…he was not alone.

Dwelling on this, Rick stared him down as he tried to think, his mind beginning to question everything. Listening, he tried to sense the presence of anyone else, and taking a risk he quickly glanced over his shoulder. There was no one behind him, no one taking him by surprise, and yet this guy had a radio. He wouldn't carry a radio if he was on his own, he must have back up.

Erring on the side of caution, Rick took his finger off the trigger.

Seeing this, Carrie groaned in horror. "Rick," she started softly, her voice strained. "Rick?"

The sound of her asking for his help only seemed to empower Granger, and he too noticed that Rick had taken his finger off the trigger. Gloating, Granger grinned as he looked between the two of them. "That's much better," he praised. "You see how easy it is to cooperate?"

"How many of you are there?" Rick asked, getting straight to the point.

"Of me?"

"Of your group."

Granger shook his head, playing dumb.

"You don't carry a radio to talk to yourself," Rick said impatiently, gesturing to it in his pocket. "Where are the rest of your group?"

Considering him for a moment, Granger gave him a dark smile. "They're close." Turning his attention back to Carrie, he held her close and whispered something to her, his words making a steely resolve appear on Carrie's face. Her expression darkened, and she shook her head vehemently.

"I know you lied to me," Granger said, Rick just managing to hear him. "I know it's not Georgia…so tell me."

"No."

Frowning, Rick tried to understand, feeling as though he had missed part of an important conversation. Watching Granger intently, noting the way he held Carrie and whispered in her ear, the physical revulsion she was displaying, he started to get the feeling that they might know each other.

"Tell me your name," Granger demanded, raising his voice.

Carrie shook her head in refusal. "No!" she suddenly shouted.

Growling at her, Granger began lowering his hand on her stomach, threatening her. "Tell me yo-"

"Her name is Lori," Rick loudly cut him off, blurting out the first name that came to him. He began putting the pieces together, figuring it out. Granger's request to know her name, her real name, reminded him of something she had told him the other day at the prison.

Granger smiled, glancing at Rick gratefully. "So it's Lori, is it? That short for something? Lorraine? Lorelei?" There was a long pause as Granger waited for her reply, jabbing his gun into the curve of her waist as punishment for her silence. "You know…I almost didn't recognise you with your clothes on."

In an instant Rick made the final connection, fury boiling in his stomach as he realised for certain who this man was, what he had done to Carrie. Everything she had told him about her story after the outbreak came rushing back to him, as did her recount of what had happened with the men who attacked her group at the couponer's house. Moving closer, while still maintaining a safe distance, he flexed his fingers around the grip on the rifle, his trigger finger twitching even though he didn't move it from the guard. The temptation to blow his head off was back again, and it was only Carrie's close proximity that kept him cautious.

"You're the one she let go?" he enquired, needing to hear it from the man himself.

Granger's eyes widened in surprise, his grin not wavering. "You told him about us?" he asked Carrie in delight. "Was I that good, huh?"

Carrie didn't respond, her attention focused solely on Rick. She was looking at him in desperation, silently begging him to do something and not understanding why he didn't. He wished he could explain, that he could tell her to trust him, but he had to settle for giving her no comfort at all.

"I'm sure you understand how this will play out," he said lowly, his tone even and measured.

"This isn't my first stand off." Granger looked at Rick again, proudly meeting the challenge. "I just hope you can understand that I am the one in the position of power."

"How so?"

"Pretty simple really. I've got a gun on her, so if you shoot me, one of three things will happen. You'll get a lucky shot and take me out…or you'll miss and I'll shoot her in retaliation…or you make a messy shot and take her out yourself. How good is your aim?"

"Tempt me to find out."

Granger just laughed. "The fact that you haven't shot me makes me think you're questioning yourself…lack of confidence doesn't lead to a perfect shot. That's what you'd need to take me out."

As if to rub it in even more, Granger readjusted his arms around Carrie and pulled his head back a little, protecting himself even more. There was a long pause, the two men sizing one another up as they tried to resolve the power struggle. Considering his options, and knowing that hoping for a perfect shot wasn't one of them, Rick glanced at Carrie.

"Rick," she said softly, getting his attention. "Shoot him, please."

"Yes, Rick," Granger added, mimicking Carrie's soft tone of voice. "Shoot me…shoot her too."

Torn, Rick hesitated a little longer, even though he already knew the decision wasn't one he needed to think about. Gun or no gun, it didn't matter. He could take this guy on…he just had to get him away from Carrie, he had to remove guns from the equation. The knowledge that there were more people around also dictated his decisions, even though they had yet to reveal themselves. He hadn't seen anyone outside when he had heard the commotion in the garage, and he pondered the thought that the others didn't know they were there, that Granger was acting alone.

"I'm not in the mood to play games," Rick said patiently, his tone and cooperation keeping the situation calm. Making a strategic move that he hoped would keep things from escalating, he took his right hand off the M4 and held it up, signalling his submission. "Now you."

There was a long pause in which Granger's finger remained on the trigger, Rick watching him like a hawk. As he knew he would, Granger drew out the suspension for as long as he dared, finally taking his own finger off the trigger when Rick started to move forward a little. Carrie, who had been crestfallen to see Rick submitting, breathed a small sigh of relief as she looked down to see that Granger was compromising too.

Granger nodded, pressing his nose into the back of Carrie's scalp. "It's all give and take, Lori. You see how this works? We can be adults...right? Right?" he asked more forcefully.

Rick was looking at her, and he nodded shortly, prompting her to answer. "Right," she answered. Having moved past her initial panic, Carrie was completely calm now, appearing to ignore the way Granger held her, the way his fingers moved over her stomach.

"Come on, Asshole," Granger said next, turning to Rick. "Put it down."

Hoping to reassure Carrie, Rick gave her a meaningful glance as he began lowering the rifle. While Granger still had a gun, that fact demanding a certain amount of fear, Rick found that he was less afraid now, their situation moving forward and progressing. Placing the rifle on the ground he next divested himself of his Colt, the gun in his waistband following along with some magazines, two knives and finally his red handled machete.

Having watched his every move, Granger looked Rick up and down. "Anything else?"

Shaking his head, Rick stood tall and put his hands behind his head when instructed. Watching him very carefully, Rick observed the way a flicker of uncertainty crossed Granger's face, reaffirming Rick's belief that they weren't in as much danger as he originally thought. There was wiggle room here. For some reason Granger seemed to hesitate now, indecisive about what to do now that his biggest threat was disarmed. Whether or not the rest of his group knew Rick and Carrie were present, Granger was acting alone, and he hadn't called them to come and back him up.

In a move that brought relief to both Rick and Carrie, Granger suddenly released her and stepped back. However the threat did not dissipate, and he pointed his gun squarely between her shoulders. "You too now, Lori," he instructed her.

Catching the small nod Rick gave her, Carrie took a slow, deep breath as she lowered her hands. Turning to the side, she made sure she could see Granger in her peripheral vision before non threateningly lowering her hand to her leg holster. Fumbling to find the release, her nerves showed as she withdrew her Ruger and began lowering it to the ground.

"Uh uh," Granger shook his head at her, raising an eyebrow. "Within your reach? I don't think so."

Looking up at him, Carrie hesitated when she saw him pointing to the ground at his feet, indicating that she should come closer. Steeling herself, she did as she was told. As she put down the gun that only a few days ago she had refused to use, she looked up at Rick. Though she was calmer now, he could tell she was still waiting for him to do something, her expression practically begging him. He wished he could reassure her, that she knew to trust him the way the others in his group did, but for now she would have to wait.

Following Granger's instructions, she unzipped the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the small revolver Rick had given her that morning. It too was laid out on the ground. Practically dropping her knife and machete in her haste, Carrie stood up and moved back a few steps, regaining some much needed distance between herself and Granger. She raised her hands just as Rick had, linking them behind her head and waiting submissively.

With them disarmed, Granger quickly set to work. Pointing his gun at Rick, he used his foot to kick his weapons further away from him, and his eyes seemed to light up as he took a proper look at them. Granger blew out a low whistle of admiration.

"That - is - beautiful," he said slowly, his foot nudging the barrel of the Colt. "I like the nickel. What about this one...is that an M16?"

Rick didn't answer, his expression impatient as he looked at Granger expectantly.

"An M4?"

Again, Rick didn't answer, not playing into any games Granger tried to initiate. Shrugging his shoulders, Granger seemed unperturbed. He unexpectedly lowered his gun and slid it into his holster, looking at Rick as though challenging the man to take him on. Rick didn't take his bait, his expression still impatient as he cooperatively stood with his hands linked behind his head. Seemingly disappointed, Granger gave him a wide berth as he walked around and stopped behind him. With Granger out of his sight, Rick turned his gaze on Carrie instead, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze.

Granger started roughly patting Rick down, starting with his arms and then moving down his sides. Patiently letting Granger work, he made no move to do anything about the man's lack of weapon, even though he recognised the opportunity. It was too soon to make a move. Until he could ascertain exactly where the rest of his group was, any move on Rick's behalf would be premature, potentially endangering he and Carrie even more. Still holding her gaze, he had to admire her steely resolve, the way she had collected her wits despite being forced to face a man who had raped her, who continued his efforts to terrorise her. But she looked impatient now, and when she suddenly lurched as though she was going to make a move, Rick shook his head.

Standing behind him, Granger reached around to Rick's front and unbuckled his duty belt, getting up close and personal with the hope of unnerving him. Recognising his attempts for what they were, Rick let him do as he pleased. As the comforting weight of his duty belt disappeared from around his hips, he prayed that Granger wasn't smart enough to look through the pouches and find his handcuffs.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Granger said smoothly, standing up and patting Rick on the back. "I can see we're going to get along just fine."

Leaving Rick for now, Granger approached Carrie. Just like he had done to Rick, Granger was going to pat her down for weapons, only he knew he wouldn't be as fast and efficient with her. He would drag it out, letting his hands linger on her body in order to torment her. Despite the way Carrie stared him down uncaringly, Rick's protective instinct took over rational thought.

"Don't even think about it."

Granger stopped a few feet away from her, looking at Rick over his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

There was a long pause, and while Granger wasn't looking Carrie let out a visible sigh of relief. She waited for something to happen, Rick staring Granger down and daring him to even try fucking with him right now. To his frustration, Granger just turned back to Carrie and shook his head in exasperation.

"Is he screwing you?" he laughed at her. "He must be if he's getting territorial." Looking back at Rick again, Granger shrugged his shoulders. "If you're screwing her, put a rubber on it...she's got the clap."

Horrified by this, Carrie started to protest. "No, I don-"

"Can we hurry this up?" Rick cut her off. "She and I have got somewhere to be."

Granger chuckled. "You're not going anywhere."

"I assure you, we are," Rick told him confidently, looking at Carrie again. "Turn out your pockets."

A little confused, she hesitantly looked between Rick and Granger, unsure of what to do. When Rick prompted her again, she moved her hands to the pockets of her jacket and emptied them. Letting the loose rounds scatter onto the floor, she pinched the interior lining and pulled it out, demonstrating that there was nothing left. Nevertheless, Granger wasn't satisfied.

"Jacket next. Got to make sure you ain't got nothing under there."

Looking a little exasperated, Carrie reluctantly unzipped her jacket and opened it, looking at Rick as she did so. Rick on the other hand was watching Granger's every move, seeing his sick smile as he looked Carrie up and down. The orange tank top she wore did little to hide the shape of her body, and Granger's eyes roved over it with a low whistle of admiration. Realising what he was doing, she hastily covered herself up again, clenching her jaw as Granger laughed at her.

"Oh, come on Lori," he appealed to her. "It's nothing I ain't already seen up close and personal."

Rick spoke up again before Granger could humiliate her any more. "Can we get on with this?" he asked impatiently. "We have somewhere to be."

Indulging Rick's confidence that the two of them would be leaving, Granger nodded his head and took a step back from her. There was a long moment in which he looked between the two of them as if admiring his accomplishment, proud that he didn't need his gun pointed in order to control them. In a very bold move Granger turned his back on them, opening the drawer on one of the garage work stations. He shuffled the contents around for a few moments, and yet again Carrie looked over at Rick, waiting for him to do something. But just like before, he did nothing.

"Rick," she mouthed inaudibly.

He shook his head at her, knowing that it was still too premature to act. They needed to know where the rest of Granger's group were, if they were outside with guns raised, ready to burst in and fire upon them at the first sign of a struggle. So when Carrie took a step forward, her jaw clenched in determination, Rick shook his head again, his expression leaving no room for argument. It was too soon.

Slamming the drawer shut, Granger turned around holding a packet of cable ties, looking at Carrie with a twisted smile. "You remember when I put these on you?"

Carrie's reaction was immediate, her steely resolve crumbling the moment she saw the cable ties. With a panicked gasp she took a step backwards, abruptly hitting the wall as her face paled.

"Remember how your hands went grey?" he smirked, glancing back at Rick as he took one of them out of the packet. He looked back at Carrie now, tilting his head. "You remember, right?"

Carrie looked at Rick, her lower jaw trembling. She was pleading with him now, and her desperation made him want to leap into action and protect her but he held himself back. Hoping to keep her as calm as possible, Rick nodded his head and prompted her to respond.

"I remember." She didn't take her eyes off Rick, but she flinched when Granger laughed loudly.

"She only complained once. A black eye shut her up pretty quick," he remarked, smiling at her. "Did she tell you what she did to me?"

"I got the gist of it."

"Yeah, well be careful of her," he warned, threading the end of the cable tie through the ratchet. "She's a cold hearted bitch. She cable tied my hands behind my back, and threw me off a truck into a street full of Roamers. And what did she say to me? She said, good luck."

"I didn't," Carrie softly rebuked him.

Raising an eyebrow, Granger turned back to her. "You didn't?"

Carrie shook her head, looking as though she had recovered a little of her composure again. She actually managed to crack a smile, and her voice was stronger this time. "I didn't wish you luck."

Considering her, Granger nodded slowly. "Like I said," he mused, turning to Rick and showing him the plastic loop. "She's a cold hearted bitch."

Keeping control of his emotions, Rick didn't rise to anger, although he had plenty he'd like to say. Looking him in the eye, Rick clenched his hands into fists and presented them in front of himself, strategically crossing his wrists at right angles. To his relief Granger didn't appear to notice, too busy trying to humiliate Carrie. As the cable tie was slipped around his wrists and pulled tight Rick kept his hands clenched, relaxing them only when Granger turned away. The tension and the way he held his hands allowed for a little more room once he relaxed. It wouldn't be enough to slip out of, but it allowed for some comfort. Rick wasn't perturbed by the cable ties like Carrie was…as long as Granger didn't see the hand cuffs in the pouch of his duty belt, he would be able to manage the situation. Cable ties he could handle, but there was no negotiating with hand cuffs.

Satisfied that the restraint was tight enough, Granger turned his back on Rick and headed towards Carrie now. Taking his time, Granger fed the ends of the cable tie together and made another loop, showing it to her. He chuckled under his breath as she avoided his eyes, clenching her jaw tight. Catching her eye again, Rick hastily raised his crossed hands and clenched them into a fist, looking at her imperatively. There wasn't time to see whether or not she understood, her attention distracted as Granger reached out for her. Instead of restraining her wrists, he reached out and stroked her hair, his hand lingering on the side of her head. To Rick's surprise she seemed to tolerate the gesture, her only reaction being to cast her eyes back to the ground.

"Enough," Rick growled, unable to stand the sight of Granger touching her again. He confidently started forward, looking Granger in the eye as he snatched the looped cable tie from him. "Don't you think you should be collecting our weapons?" he asked, indicating to the array of firearms and knives that lay on the ground.

Granger stared right back at him, the two men almost nose to nose. There was a long pause in which Granger slid his hand down the back of Carrie's head, letting it rest on the side of her neck as he considered Rick. Finally a small smile crossed his face, and he took his hand off her to pat Rick on the shoulder instead.

"So you are screwing her," he grinned. Turning his back on them, Granger bent down and started collecting their weapons, putting them aside where they could not be reached. "She's good, isn't she? Does as she's told, she…"

Letting him talk, Rick made Carrie look him in the eye. "Clench your fists," he whispered under his breath. Slipping the cable tie around her hands, he quickly made her cross them at the wrist before pulling the plastic tight. The ratchet accidentally caught on her wrist, pinching her skin. Her eyes widened as she realised there was a little slack in the restraint, that although he had pulled it tight, uncrossing her hands made them a little more comfortable. Somewhat reassured, she quickly glanced back over at Granger. Admiring the rounds in Rick's Colt, Granger was leaving himself exposed to their attack, though he seemed confident in his safety.

"What are you doing?" she whispered in frustration, glancing at Granger again.

"Come on, Romeo," Granger said, grabbing Rick by the elbow and yanking him away.

He didn't get the opportunity to reassure her properly. Feeling the tip of his own gun pressed into his side, Rick moved without argument, letting this asshole think he was still in charge, that he was in control. He held Carrie's gaze for as long as he could, seeing doubt in her eyes, doubt which he had to ignore. Still asserting himself, Granger led him to one side of the garage and roughly shoved him down to his knees. Satisfied, he next took Carrie by the arm, leading her to the other side while Rick watched over his shoulder. Having no choice, she turned her back and got down on her knees, her shoulders hunched forward on instinct. Shielding herself from Granger, who still held the top of her arm, she turned her face away from him and looked at the floor. Having immediately liked it, he held the tip of Rick's gun against Carrie's thigh, the hammer pulled back in threat.

They spoke for a few moments before he let her be, looking across the garage at Rick instead. Scrutinising him, Granger turned on the spot and came towards him now, making quite a show of tapping his fingers on the handle of Rick's gun. There was near silence now, the only sound being Carrie's slow, steady breaths and Granger's footsteps. It was clear to him that Granger was stalling for time, perhaps not entirely sure of what to do with his hostages, but for some reason he was reluctant to call for his group. As the silence grew, he moved over to the rear door of the garage, looking out into the open fields. His hand had drifted to his back pocket where his radio was, his fingers tracing the antenna as though to remind himself it was there.

"Where are they?" Rick asked, breaking the silence. "The rest of your group?"

Smirking to himself, Granger answered his question. "They're checking the fences."

"Why? You don't look like you're making this your home," he commented. The news that the rest of the group were not here right now was welcome…he didn't have to worry about them bursting in now. He could make his move as soon as he was ready.

"We're not. But a herd of Roamers came our way last night, headed straight down the main road. You see, it's generally important we make sure they're not coming back."

Rick didn't respond to this, unsure of whether the news that he and Carrie had brought the herd down this way would be well received.

"How long until they're back?" he asked, glancing at his watch. Time was slipping away, and lingering in the back of his mind was worries about the rest of his own group. While he knew Glenn would keep going north for Carl's sake, some of the others would linger and wait for he and Carrie to turn up. If they didn't get back on the road soon, their group would leave the safety of Rock Hill and start looking for them.

"Not long."

"How many of them are there?"

"You're a nosy son of a bitch, aren't you?"

"Just tying to make conversation," he shrugged. "Why haven't you called them yet?" he asked next, gesturing to the radio.

"I'm considering some options," Granger pondered, slowly drawing his eyes back over to Carrie. "Some added value before my group can interfere."

Though it was likely Granger's intentions, Rick's hackles were instantly raised at this comment. He knew exactly what Granger was insinuating, what the added value would mean for Carrie. "That's not going to happen."

Raising his eyebrows, Granger brought Rick's gun and tapped the barrel against the palm of his hand, admiring it. He swiftly crouched down in front of Rick, pressing the tip of the gun into his mid-thigh. "Don't you worry about a thing. I know her…she's going to work this out any minute now," he teased in a low whisper. "Do you know how she works things out with men? How she negotiates?"

"I know that you raped her."

"It's not rape if she asked for it. Not if she offered."

Rick scoffed at this, working hard to keep his temper in check. "That help you sleep at night?"

"Four strange men rocked up on her doorstep, and she couldn't find the guts to kill us," Granger continued in a whisper, ignoring the question. Trying to unnerve him, he moved the tip of Rick's gun higher up his leg and leaned in close. "She was willing to fuck us though…all four of us…again and again."

His jaw clenched tightly, Rick kept his face impassive, determined not to show how much this was affecting him. While he wanted nothing more than to choke the life out of this man with his bare hands, he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to break out of the cable ties, and that was an absolute necessity. Granger was tall and bulky, and he wouldn't go down easy. Reasserting himself, Rick started looking around the garage, squaring his shoulders as he found what he was looking for.

"You see that roll of electrical wiring? The blue one over there?"

Not liking the way he tried to take control, Granger took his sweet time in looking over to where Rick indicated. Unconcerned, he shrugged. "So? What about it?"

"That's what I'm going to strangle you with," Rick told him slowly, no longer whispering. "And I'm going to enjoy every moment."

Unconcerned, Granger gave a short laugh. "Well, we all have our kinks."

"Actually, it's more of a promise."

"Hey," Carrie said softly, taking both men by surprise. They simultaneously turned and looked at her. "Come here," she requested, looking at Granger.

"Don't even think about it," Rick growled in warning, suspecting what she wanted.

"Just…just let me handle this," she said tentatively.

"No," he said automatically. He looked back at Granger now, furious that he had been right, that he had anticipated Carrie doing this. "No."

"I told you so," he gloated, putting his hand on Rick's shoulder and shoving him back down when he tried to stand. A self-satisfied expression crossed his face, and he looked at Rick smugly. "Let's hear what she has to say."

With a feeling of dread, Rick watched closely as Granger went back over to Carrie. She caught his eye and gave him a short nod, her posture and body language confident and assured. Granger too looked back at Rick, giving him another smug smile as he crouched down beside her. Now trying to avoid Rick's eyes, she started talking softly, intentionally making sure he couldn't hear what she was saying. As the feeling of dread grew, he watched as Granger slowly nodded, appearing to consider whatever it was she was saying.

Taking the opportunity while he had it, Rick began adjusting the plastic cable tie around his wrists, moving it until the ratchet was in between his hands. Using his teeth to tug on the end, he tightened the plastic restraint until it was painful, getting ready to break out of it. He'd had more than enough of this shit. Having waited only to ascertain where the rest of the group was, to make sure they weren't lying in wait outside ready to attack, Rick was free to make his move. He'd already subjected Carrie to this man's presence long enough, forcing her to face him after believing he was long dead. Using his last few moments, he used his teeth to tighten the cable tie even further, feeling his hands start to ache in protest. Ready, he looked back at Carrie, horrified to see that she was indeed offering what Granger had said she would. He didn't need to hear what she was saying to know…the look of satisfaction on Granger's face was enough.

"Carrie, shut up," Rick said harshly, losing his temper "Now."

Granger looked around in amusement and laughed, while Carrie simply tried to avoid Rick's heated gaze. "I thought it was Lori," Granger teased in amusement. Unperturbed, he got to his feet and dragged her up with him. "If she wants to negotiate on her back, then who are you to stop her?"

"That's not going to happen," Rick said lowly, rising to his feet. "I made you a promise."

Marching forward, Rick grit his teeth as he brought his hands crashing down against his hip bones, snapping the cable ties instantly. Granger's reaction was immediate, and he dragged Carrie into his arms as he raised Rick's gun, pressing it to the underside of her jaw. Rick immediately lunged for the weapon, his hands wrapping around the barrel as he focused solely on making sure it was pointed safely away. Yelling furiously, Granger snarled as he pulled the trigger, the gunshot powerfully loud at such close range, temporarily deafening Rick to any sound other than Carrie's panicked cry. She was stuck between them, Granger's other arm wound tight around her waist, but for now she'd have to endure. Taking advantage of the kickback, Rick thrust the gun back and drove it straight into Granger's face, hitting him with the butt as hard as he could.

Hitting him repeatedly, Rick grit his teeth in satisfaction as blood began spilling from his nose, his howl of pain punctuated by Rick's knee in his side. Granger's grip on Carrie slackened for just a moment, allowing her the opportunity for her to wrench herself away from the fight, hastened by Rick who all but shoved her aside. Momentarily distracted, his eyes following her as she fell to the ground a few feet away, Rick left himself exposed. With a furious yell Granger pushed back against his attacker, his bulk and sheer weight knocking Rick backwards off his feet.

If was going to fall, then he sure as hell was bringing Granger down with him. Never letting go of the barrel of his gun, Rick pulled Granger down and let him fall on top of him, hearing the sound of someone's voice coming from the radio. Seizing the gun, and wanting to avoid further fumbling with the trigger, Rick chose the safest option which was to throw it aside, and he listened to it clatter across the floor while Granger landed a heavy fist square on his jaw. It was painful, the force of it making Rick's head spin for a moment, and from then on his fight was pure adrenaline, the pure determination that he was going to live and this bastard was going to die. He grappled for anything he could reach, seizing items and smashing them against his attackers head, a small jar of wing nuts going wide and nearly hitting Carrie.

"Stay back," he managed to shout at her, seeing that she was coming closer.

He couldn't worry about her getting caught in the middle of this, and with that in mind Rick brought his leg up between them and drove his knee straight into Granger's belly. Winded, Granger faltered momentarily, and then again as Rick began driving his fist into his side again and again, making him spasm. Driving his knuckles against the front of Granger's windpipe, he used all of his strength to push him off and to the side, making sure he rolled onto his back before straddling him. He just managed to catch sight of the electric drill Granger took hold of, but the blow he sought to land on Rick's head was poorly executed.

Knocking the drill aside, Rick quickly took control of his arms, using his knee to hold one down as he began raining heavy blows down on Granger's face. Taking out all of his fury Rick pictured this mongrel with his hands all over Carrie, taking advantage of her naivety, of her determination to protect her group. Granger fought back violently, his legs flailing wildly as he brought his knee up and slammed it into Rick's back. In a stroke of bad fortune the blow landed directly on his old gunshot wound, that injury always the first part of his body to falter in a fist fight. Grunting in pain, Rick let himself fall to the side to recover, but the moment his leg was free he kicked out as hard as he could, catching Granger's chin before kicking again. The force of the kick made his eyes roll back, and with a pained groan he slowly raised his hands to his head.

Watching his opponent, Rick hauled himself to his feet and clutched the left hand side of his chest. Panting to catch his breath, he looked around for Carrie, his heart leaping to see that she was holding his gun. "Put it down," he told her, glancing back at Granger who had now rolled onto his side, groaning loudly. Trying to be quick about it, he started looking around for his knife or machete, trying to reorient himself in the garage now that everything had been knocked askew. His eyes falling on the roll of blue electrical wiring, he began reaching out for it just as he saw something from the corner of his eyes.

Carrie yelped as Rick roughly grabbed her, just getting her out of harm's way as something heavy came flying towards them. It caught him on the top of his ear, the object skimming through his hair and hitting the wall as he shoved Carrie down to the ground. Looking around, he watched as Granger slowly hauled himself to his feet, grunting heavily with each movement. Retrieving the object that had been thrown, Rick felt his lips curling into a snarl, incensed to see exactly what it was.

Hoping that Carrie stayed down, Rick got to his feet and stood tall, tapping the end of the heavy wrench into the palm of his hand as he looked at Granger. There was a stalemate, each of them standing on opposite sides of the garage as they stared one another down. Looking at him now, Rick had a vivid vision of Shane, remembering the fight over Randal that would have seen one of them beat the other to death. As Granger stood there with blood dripping down his face, his broad chest heaving for breath as he planned his next move, Rick couldn't help but think of Shane, and he acted accordingly.

"You're going to have to do better than a wrench."

Grabbing the blue electrical cord off the wall, Rick yanked on the end and let the roll hit the ground. Tugging it along behind him, he tossed the wrench aside and marched straight over to Granger, pleased when he played straight into his plan. Giving an almighty yell of fury, he launched himself at Rick, tackling him around the middle and pushing him down. While Carrie screamed, the two of them hit the ground hard, Rick's breath leaving his body as Granger reared up over him, but he was not afraid. It was so easy to slip the electrical cord around his neck that it almost felt like cheating. Yanking on both ends as hard as he could, Rick felt the grim satisfaction that came with seeing realisation flash across Granger's face.

Prepared for the struggle, Rick brought his legs up again and kicked Granger off him, the sudden lurch working in his favour. Granger began thrashing around, spluttering and fighting for his life as Rick turned him onto his front and then straddled him, pinning him down. A quick adjustment of the electrical cord saw him pulling even tighter, and his weight on top of his victim made it harder for him to fight. The blood on Rick's hands made this slippery work, and so he wound the cord around his fists to keep control of it, to maintain the advantage.

Granger fought him desperately, trying to push himself up, to get Rick off of him, but to no avail. All he could do was desperately scratch against Rick's hands and wrists, to dig his fingernails into his skin as best he could, but even that was short lived. Feeling him weakening, Rick slowly exhaled, feeling the reprieve it brought him before he glanced up at Carrie. She was sitting exactly where he had left her, her knees brought up to her chest as her hands covered her mouth.

In a moment of self-doubt, Rick turned away as much as he could, not wanting her to see him doing this. He knew that he was doing the right thing, he was not going to lose sleep over this, but that didn't mean he wanted to show off what he did. The lengths he went to for survival, while necessary, were not exactly something he was proud of, and he hated that he was showing her this side of himself, the way he so quickly turned into a killer. He'd already explained this to her, their last night at the prison when they'd sat together on the bleachers drinking the last of the red wine. He had told her that he did what was necessary, that for him, killing another person had become easy, not-unlike a menial chore…but that didn't mean he wanted her to see his transformation up close like this. The others…they understood, they'd been in the same position before. Carrie hadn't.

Despite his weakened state, Granger suddenly found another burst of strength, adrenaline fighting to keep his body alive. Taking Rick by surprise, Granger violently lurched up beneath him and it was just enough to make Rick falter. Knocked askew, Rick focused on keeping the electrical cord tight, knowing that the final surge of strength meant that the whole thing was almost over. Wrapping his legs around Granger's upper chest, he controlled the thrashing as he lay down on his back, intentionally pulling Granger on top of him. Yelling through gritted teeth, Rick pulled harder yet again, stretching his torso back to protect his face from Granger's hands.

Just as he felt Granger weakening again, his finger nails faltering against Rick's knuckles, he saw Carrie getting up. Looking around at her, his heart lurched as he realised what she was doing, that she was getting his gun again. He tried to yell out to her, but he had hardly any breath left in his lungs. She didn't understand, she didn't realise…this had to be a quiet kill.

"No!" he managed to shout.

Panicked, Carrie ignored him, and all he could do was make sure he wasn't going to get caught in the crossfire. Watching as Carrie pressed the gun against the side of Granger's head, he shouted at her again, but to no avail. The sound of the gunshot was all consuming, the sudden noise at close range startling him even though he had been expecting it. Gasping for breath, Rick closed his eyes for a moment and waited for pain, for some sign that Carrie had accidentally shot him too. But none came.

Groaning, Rick opened his eyes and raised his head, still trying to catch his breath as he looked at Granger. Blood spatter marred each side of his head, and he watched for a moment as it steadily dripped down onto Rick's jacket, marking it for all to see. As the impact of what had happened hit him, Rick slumped back down and looked up at the ceiling, mentally finding his bearings as the adrenaline began to recede. But there wasn't time for him to relax for long, and with that in mind he began unwinding the electrical cord from around his fists. He struggled for a moment to lift the dead weight off his body, and he grunted in discomfort as he managed to shove Granger off him.

Before he could think too much, he staggered to his feet and looked down at himself to take stock of his injuries. Aside from some bumps and scrapes, he was unharmed, the blood moistening his hands and sleeves thankfully not his own. With great trepidation he turned around and looked at Carrie. She stood stock still, looking between he and Granger in a state of shock. She still held his Colt, her finger poised on the trigger ready to fire again.

Still catching his breath, Rick cautiously approached her, moving slowly in case he startled her. For a moment he feared that she might go into shock, that she would completely shut down and make getting out of there all the more difficult. But she seemed to snap out of her trance, her eyes making contact with his as he took his gun out of her hands.

"You alright?"

She nodded silently, her lips pressed tightly together as she stood silently and looked at Granger's body. Letting out an immeasurable sigh of relief, Carrie steeled herself as she took a few steps over to where Granger lay, looking down at him blankly. Clenching his fists, Rick tried to be patient, wishing he could give her time to properly process what had happened, but with the shots that had been fired, they needed to get out of there immediately. As though the universe was mocking him, his fear realised itself as a voice came across the radio in Granger's pocket.

"Granger? Everything alright back there?" a woman asked. "That was the second shot we've heard."

Rick and Carrie both looked at the radio nervously, Carrie horrified to realise what she had done, why Rick had shouted at her not to. She looked at him remorsefully, beginning to apologise until he held up his hand. Waiting apprehensively, he dreaded what was coming next, because he knew what he would have to do.

"Granger, did you take out Roamers?" a man asked now. "Granger?" Come on man…give me a reply."

Swearing under his breath, Rick began looking around for their weapons, gratefully finding his duty belt. Putting it back on, he slipped his Colt into the holster and then picked up his knives and machete. Just as he started telling Carrie to hurry up, the radio sounded again, telling Rick exactly what he didn't want to hear.

"We're coming back, Granger."

* * *

Just like to say thanks to my new beta reader, angelcat70. She's being a great help with story line and plot ideas, so feel free to clap your hands for her!


	27. Chapter 27

A/N Thanks to Angie for her help with this chapter. She's been working really hard to help me out with the plot, and I'm so excited to get you guys the next few chapters. I can't wait to see what you think of them.

* * *

"Granger, did you take out a Roamer?" a man asked now. "Granger?" Come on man…give me a reply."

Swearing under his breath, Rick began looking around for their weapons, gratefully finding his duty belt. Putting it back on, he slipped his Colt into the holster and then picked up his knives and machete. Just as he started telling Carrie to hurry up, the radio sounded again, telling Rick exactly what he didn't want to hear.

"We're coming back, Granger."

That one sentence confirmed what needed to happen next. "We haven't got much time," Rick said urgently, finding his pocket knife and turning to Carrie. Taking her hands, he hastily cut her from the cable ties and then thrust her weapons towards her. "Come on."

"Right," she said apologetically, collecting her thoughts as quickly as she could. She fumbled for a moment, trying to get her revolver into the pocket of her jacket. "We need gas."

"No," he corrected her. Slipping the strap of the M4 over his shoulder he brought it into his arms as he headed for the back door, pushing it open a little and looking outside. His view of the area was largely obscured, not providing the lines of sight he would need in order to get them out of this safely. "We need to get to the house."

"But, we ne-"

"They're not going to let us out of here alive," he told her, his voice low and serious. It was important that she understood this, that she realised this was a matter of life and death.

There was an awful moment when the realisation dawned on her, dismay crossing her face. "Rick," she began. "We can't ki-"

Seeing she wasn't going to listen, he cut her off and grabbed her arm. "Stay behind me, alright? Carrie?"

Unable to hold her arm like he would have wanted to, Rick let it go in favour of holding the M4 properly. Trusting her to stay close to him, to follow his lead despite her protests, he stepped out of the garage and looked around properly, checking that the coast was clear before prompting her to follow. Side by side they raced across the property and headed for the house, Rick's eyes scanning the open spaces for signs of anyone coming at them, fearing the sound of gunfire from afar. If these people could see them right now they were open targets, easy prey.

They reached the house quickly, and without needing to clear it of Walkers they burst through the front door and slammed it shut behind them. With no time to breathe a sigh of relief, Rick quickly took stock of the interior, going from room to room and making sure it was unoccupied. With Carrie still standing in the threshold, Rick paused and looked up at the ceiling, listening for signs that there was anyone up there. Satisfied with the silence, he spared Carrie a glance before heading into the living room. She was looking at him with a strange expression, her hands clenched around the grip of her Ruger.

It was dark inside the house, the windows covered with curtains or boarded up. Taking out his flashlight, he quickly looked around the living room. This group was smart…rather than taking up residence in the bedrooms, they were camping out in the living room to take advantage of the fireplace. When Rick and his group were on the road before Alexandria, it didn't matter how comfortable the beds were…they always slept in the living room by the fireplace, preferring smaller houses that were easier to warm. This group did the same, which made counting their numbers much easier. There was an array of clothing, packing and bedding materials strewn about, a sweater hanging off the back of a chair in front of the smouldering fire. Quickly taking stock of all the items, he counted multiples of four, indicating that there were three more people that needed to be dealt with.

"Rick, what are you doing?" Carrie began hesitantly. "We can't kill them."

He looked over at her incredulously. While he had expected a certain level of apprehension, he hadn't expected this. "They're not going to let us out of here alive," he repeated his earlier statement. "We have to protect ourself."

"They're innocent! Maybe if we-"

"Are you with me or not?" he demanded, needing her answer one way or another.

Her hesitation was the only answer he needed. She looked at him with the same expression he himself had once worn, one that conveyed the inner conflict she felt about the way they had to survive. He recognised her headspace, knowing that he too had been there only a year and a half ago. The notion that killing people needed to become second nature had been difficult to comprehend, and he had constantly sought alternatives, trying to do the right thing. Understanding her turmoil, Rick took pity on her, knowing he couldn't force her to have his back.

Hearing the sound of an engine approaching, he swiftly crossed the room and headed for the staircase, hastily instructing her to follow him. She did so without protest, and so he led her to the first floor and began looking around the threshold, seeking the room he required. Opening the door to a bathroom, he checked the handle and found that it was lockable from the inside.

"I want you to wait in here," he told her, looking her in the eye. "Loc-"

"Rick, you don't have to do this," she cut him off urgently. Putting her hand on the tip of the M4 as though she wanted to push it away, she looked at him imperatively as she took a deep breath. "They're innocent."

"Listen to me!" he snapped, his impatience growing with the noise of the approaching engine. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "The other night, you told me your group never protected you. You said that."

Her next argument dying on her lips, she hesitated before slowly nodding.

"Let me protect you," he growled, giving her a firm push into the bathroom. She didn't make any further protest, but he wasn't naive enough to believe that she fully understood what he was trying to do for her. "Lock the door." Closing it on her behalf, he didn't linger to make sure she followed his instructions, heading downstairs instead.

He raced back over to the curtains, his suspicion about the sound of the engines correct. Two people had arrived on dirt bikes, stopping only to open one of the field gates. Through the gap in the curtain, Rick watched as one of the men dismounted his bike and dragged the heavy gate open, the other one passing through and not waiting. He tore across the open plain towards the house, the rumble of the old engine growing louder and louder with each second. Panicked about the fate of Granger, he looked around wildly, standing up on his bike until he saw something that caught his attention. Diverting, he headed for the garage instead of the house, dumping the dirt bike as he rushed through the open door.

Breathing slowly, Rick double checked the rounds in his Colt, replacing the two that were spent before putting it back in the holster. Knowing what the man was going to find in the garage, and what would happen next, he opened the curtains a little to admit some light into the living room and then swiftly slipped across to the kitchen to lay low behind the island bench. Although it provided no protection from gunfire, it was enough space for him to hide out for as long as he needed to. They would be keeping guns and ammunition in the living room, and were no doubt the first place these people would go. He waited in silence, glad that for now Carrie seemed to be doing as she was told.

"A Roamer?"

"No, he's been fucking shot!"

Listening to the two men, Rick allowed himself to feel regret for what he was about to do. While this particular task had grown easy over the last few months, rationally knowing that his life was on the line, that didn't mean it had no impact. These people had done nothing to him, even though he knew that wouldn't be true for long if he didn't shoot first. Reminding him what was at stake, he heard their shouting grow louder as they raced up the front steps and crossed the front porch. Trying to be thorough, Rick reminded himself that there was another person in this group still to come, a woman, if his memory served him correctly.

The front door burst open, one set of heavy footsteps crossing the threshold, a second set following barely a moment later. Steeling himself, Rick counted to three before getting to his feet. The rifle ready, he stepped lightly as he followed the men into the living room. While it was a cowardly thing to do, practicality called for it, and so he took aim and shot the first man in the back of the head. The sound of the gunshot was enormous in the confined space, the muzzle flash momentarily blinding him in the poorly lit room. As the first man crumbled where he stood, the second whirled around with his gun raised, but he didn't have time to even see his attacker. Rick fired again, the second man's head lurching backwards as he too fell where he stood.

There was no opportunity for reprieve, no brief moment in which he could pause to absorb the situation. Knowing there was another still around, Rick spun around with the gun raised, ready to take on anyone else that was coming for him. However there was no one there, the house completely silent. Unnerved by this, he took a deep breath as he headed back for the windows and peered out the curtains. There were four sleeping bags, and he was certain he had heard a woman's voice coming over the radio before.

He only had to wait for a minute before the sound of another engine was heard. It came from a different direction this time, and so he raced back into the kitchen and looked out the windows there. Tearing down one of the dirt roads that led to a barn in the distance was a small sedan, a cloud of dust blooming up behind it. Readying himself, Rick darted away from the windows and raced up the staircase to the first floor. Rushing past the bathroom Carrie occupied, he burst into one of the bedrooms to his left and reached the window in seconds.

Throwing the window open, he crouched on one knee and took aim, bringing the sedan into his sights. He followed it's progress as it came closer to the house, but the speed and erratic swerves of the panicked driver was going to make taking only a single shot rather difficult. With this in mind he took aim and breathed out slowly, squeezing the trigger and holding it. Firing rapidly, he watched as the sedan's windscreen shattered, and a fraction of a second later it was gone from his sights. Looking up, he squinted as the car gracefully swerve to the right, losing speed before ploughing straight into one of the wooden fence posts.

Despite having taken out the last of the group, Rick was still unable to breathe the sigh of relief he so desperately needed. The horn from the car was sounding now, and though he knew the massive herd was miles away by now, it was still a tempting call to any others in the vicinity. Bursting to his feet, he slung the M4 over his shoulder and raced back for the stairs, needing to silence the horn immediately.

"Carrie, stay in there!"

Though the immediate danger had passed, he shouted this instruction to her as he rushed past the bathroom, needing the reassurance of knowing where she was. With his ears ringing from the gun fire he couldn't hear if she replied, and there wasn't time to linger. In seconds he burst back out into the morning sunshine and raced across the field towards the car, his heart pounding with the urgency of his task. Taking the fastest route possible, he scaled the low fence and cut across the field towards the other side.

He didn't need to look to know that he had killed the driver, the woman's body slumped over the steering wheel inanimately. Reaching the driver's side he wrenched the door open and quickly gave the body a rough shove, pushing it off the steering wheel and stopping the horn. There was now beautiful silence, the respite making him groan in relief. Panting, he gave himself a moment to catch his breath as he looked around, checking there were no Walkers around. Staggering a little, he rubbed the back of his neck as the painful ringing in his right ear began to alleviate. The bedroom from which he had fired those shots was small, and the reverberations of the M4 combined with the loud horn were not being kind to his hearing. As he felt a pounding headache begin to develop, he crouched down to his knees in exhaustion, tossing the M4 down to the ground. But despite his headache, there was peaceful clarity now, the type of peace that overcame him after every incident in which he and his group narrowly avoided injury or death.

With that notion in mind, Rick hauled himself back to his feet less than a minute after resting. He and Carrie needed to get back to the rest of the group as quickly as they could…if they were much longer, they'd come looking for them. It would be Daryl of course, while Glenn and Michonne would keep to the priority of getting Carl home. Acknowledging that Alexandria was now indeed their home, Rick braced himself before looking into the car again. Peering on only to see what weapons he could take, he avoided having to look at the driver's face, or more correctly what was left of it. Picking up his own gun, he moved around to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door, taking the shot gun and box of rounds off the seat.

"Sorry," he desolately muttered to the fresh corpse, slamming the door closed.

Mostly desensitised to what he had done, Rick headed back for the house, raising his eyes only to look up at the first floor. He wondered if Carrie could see him from the bathroom, if there was a window that faced this side of the property. Feeling rather conscious of what he had done, and her protests against it, he delayed going to her for as long as he could. Instead he placed the stolen weapons by the front door before checking the other bodies in the living room, wanting to be absolutely sure they had taken head shots. Glancing at the ceiling, he wondered what he ought to do about Carrie, about whether or not he should bring her down just yet. He held back a groan of frustration, recalling the look that crossed her face when she realised what he intended to do. Surely she understood that they had no other choice, that if there had been an alternative he would have given it consideration.

Dreading her reaction, for he feared that it would be bad, he forced himself to go to her. Slowly climbing the stairs he tried to think of what to say, wondering how to start. He reached the landing sooner than he would have liked, but he wasn't able to linger there for long. His footsteps had echoed as he walked, and she knew he was out there, stalling. Feeling awkward, he raised his fist and gently knocked on the bathroom door.

"Carrie…are you alright?"

"I'm alright," she answered after a short pause. Her voice was even and steady, reassuring him just a little. "They're dead?"

"Yes."

There was silence now, Rick idling outside the bathroom door as he wondered what to do next, how to go about this. While her tone of voice was calm, it felt as though opening the door and entering would be an intrusion. Looking at the door handle, he wondered whether or not she had locked it as he had told her to.

"I'm going back for the car," he decided, looking down at his feet as he spoke.

"Okay."

He hesitated now, getting worried. "I won't be long," he assured her, trailing off awkwardly. "Will you be alright?"

"Yes."

Though he wasn't at all reassured, he nodded his head as he stepped back from the bathroom door, strangely relieved that he didn't quite have to face her yet. "Stay in there until I get back."

He didn't wait to hear her response. Instead he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps echoing down the oak staircase in his haste. Not sparing the dead men another glance, he headed out the front door and let it close behind him, revelling not just in the fresh air, but the freedom he had taken for granted. He was uncomfortably aware of just how close they had come. While he had maintained a significant amount of control and influence over his captor, Granger had a loaded gun…it never took much to set someone over the edge, for one wrong move to result in someone getting shot. He walked a fine line every time someone pointed a gun at him, and despite many instances of harm, he was luckier than most.

Figuring he'd take some gas with him, he picked up one of their containers and entered the garage, heading straight for the enormous barrel of gasoline in the back of the pick up. While it would certainly prove useful to his group to have a significant supply of spare gas, rationally the effort required to get all of it back to them was greater than the benefit. It would mean abandoning the minivan in favour of the rusted old pick up, and the amount of gasoline they got as a pay off wouldn't be significant enough. Settling for taking only what they needed, Rick went to the tap on the end of the barrel and opened it, setting the gas container on the ground and letting it fill.

Folding his arms, he leant against the back of the pick up and stared at the dead body he and Carrie had left behind. Granger lay still, never to reanimate, but the knowledge of what this animal had done would not be forgotten, particularly by Carrie. Looking at his corpse now, Rick resisted the impulse to kick him, instead settling for staring at the gaping head wound that had killed him, admiring the way the electrical cord was wound round his neck. Against his will he began to imagine this mongrel with Carrie, coercing her into having sex with him.

Given what had happened, Rick questioned Carrie's reaction to his plan to kill the other three, her insistence that they were innocent. Setting aside the fact that it was an unavoidable necessity, the mere fact that there were in Granger's company made them guilty by association…but how much did they know about him? Regretfully he began to think of Daryl, of when he had no choice but to seek safety in numbers by joining the Claimers. He had known they were bad people, but he hadn't realised the true extent of this until it was almost too late.

Wearily rubbing his face, Rick turned off the tap when the gas container was full and then secured the lid. Looking at the back of Granger's head as he walked past, he left the small garage and started heading back to the road, desiring nothing more than to get back behind the steering wheel and return to his group. After everything that had happened with the herd and then now this shit, he wanted to hold Carl in his arms, to feel the comfort that came with each safe reunion. There was still a long way to go before they got back to Alexandria, but Rick wondered how much longer he could last. He was missing Judith more than he expected…with the exception of the few days after losing the prison, this was the only time he had ever been apart from her, and he wondered how well his little girl was taking yet another change.

Walking past the house, he glances up at the first floor, feeling as though Carrie is watching him. He can't tell, the morning sunlight making it difficult to see the bathroom window properly, and so he focused his attention on opening the gate and passing through. As he marched down the road back towards the minivan, Rick wished to God that he knew what was going to happen next.

* * *

It was difficult to process everything that had just happened, difficult to relax even though it was all over. Feeling her breaths shudder, Carrie leant forward with her elbows on her knees, breathing deeply as she tried to keep herself together. She could still feel Granger's hands as he caressed her stomach, could still feel his hot breath against her neck, marring the same spots that Rick had kissed not so long ago. Looking down at her wrists, she traced the pink indentations that had been left by the cable ties, which funnily enough hadn't even been tight until Rick had tightened them. But he had broken out of his own, he had known what to do. If Rick hadn't known how to do that, if Rick hadn't…

She hadn't trusted his lead at first, and she found herself constantly wanting to scream at him for help, to beg him to do something. Instead he remained perfectly calm, even managing to look a little bored by what was happening to them. While rationally she knew she could trust him, that he was a man of skilful thinking and resourcefulness, it was harder to depend on those qualities in the heat of the moment. This was the first since the start that she had ever completely depended on another person to protect her, the first time she had been so paralysed by fear that she couldn't do anything other than stand in silence.

Wiping her face, Carrie forced herself to stand up, needing to do something. If she sat there much longer she feared Rick would have to come in and pry her off the edge of the bathtub himself. Looking in the mirror she hastily wiped at her cheeks before turning to the bathroom window. Stepping into the dusty bath tub, she pulled back the edge of the curtain and looked down to the front of the property, seeing Rick below. He was at the property line, pulling the large gate closed behind him and then looping the chain through the gap. Having made sure it was secure, he picked up the gas container and started heading down the road. She watched as he progressed down the long road and then disappeared from sight, the minivan a mile away. Not even ten minutes ago she had been covering her ears, giving a cry of shock when he suddenly starting firing the M4 from the bedroom right beside where she was waiting. Silence fell for barely a second before the sound of a car's horn started, swiftly followed by Rick's panicked footsteps across the landing.

"Carrie, stay in there!" he had yelled out.

Sure. Like she was going anywhere right now.

She hadn't bothered replying to him, and he was gone seconds later anyway, the horn falling silent shortly after that. Alone in the bathroom, Carrie didn't want to think about what he had done, about the way it made her insides turn cold with guilt. It had been awkward when he came up a few minutes ago, knocking on the door to check that she was alright. Sitting with her head between her knees and her stomach churning, she had been the opposite of alright. Torn between the instinct to protect herself from the man who had just shot three people and the rationality that he had no choice in the matter, Carrie almost hadn't said anything to reassure him. Even when she did, she knew he wasn't buying it.

How could she be okay after what had just happened? What had started out as a dire lack of gas in their car had so unexpectedly escalated, but it wasn't Walkers or their being stranded that nearly got them killed. Like so many other times, the greatest threat to their safety came from other people, in this case someone Carrie hadn't ever expected to see again. Granger had reappeared in her life, cornering her the very moment she let her guard down. Christ…she'd blown his brains out herself, but she could still feel his hands on her bare skin, his breath hot and uncomfortable on the back of her neck as he taunted her. But even when that was over, the rest of their problems weren't. Faster than her to understand the situation, Rick had immediately leapt into action, knowing that the other people coming for Granger had to be stopped…that they had to be killed.

It startled her to see someone come to that conclusion so quickly, and she couldn't lie to herself. The speed of which he made his decision had scared her. He seemed to factual about it, his tone calm and measured as he plainly told her that these people were not going to let them leave alive. Perhaps if she'd had a few moments to process the notion she might have understood it a little better, might have come to the same conclusion on her own terms, but time was a luxury afforded to few. Having so recently talked at great length about how it was becoming his second nature, Rick immediately came to the decision that needed to be made, carrying it out even against her poor attempts at protest.

His absence now seemed to bring her a sense of relief, though she knew this was irrational on her part. She shouldn't be glad that he was gone, not after everything he had just done to protect her, but his absence felt like a small weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Ignoring his departing request that she stay in the bathroom, Carrie brushed her hair behind her shoulders and slowly opened the door, cautiously looking out. While she knew the only occupants of the house were dead, she still proceeded with a particular level of caution. Choosing her knife instead of her gun, she held it steady and stepped into the hallway to look around.

The house was uncomfortably silent, though she should have taken that for a good sign given that she was the only living being there. Her knife held ready, Carrie slowly descended the stairs to the ground floor, the distinct smell of gun powder being the first evidence that greeted her. Unsure of what to do, she hesitantly walked the living room instead, suspecting she might find the dead men there. It was no longer strange to see a rotting corpse in an unexpected place, the occurrence so frequent she had largely grown immune to it, but it was confronting to find someone who had so recently died. Complementing the smell of gun powder was the sight of blood spatter on the far walls, the dark red forming a pattern no one would admire. Averting her eyes from it, she turned her attention to the two figures that lay prone on the floor, spread eagled and lifeless.

Approaching them slowly, she slowly opened one of the curtains and let some proper light into the room. Despite knowing Rick would have done so, Carrie carefully peered at the two dead men to check for a headshot, her stomach turning as she looked at their injuries. Gaping head wounds signalled that they were most definitely not going to reanimate, the bullets having wreaked havoc on the victim's head. Though she was unfamiliar with firearms, she suspected that Rick had used the M4…she had seen the rounds it took, and they were enormous.

Taking a few deep breaths she looked up at the front door, listening for any sound of Rick approaching. He was taking longer than she had expected. Perhaps he had run into trouble…perhaps he was fending off Walkers or dealing with the unexpected arrival of yet more people. For a moment Carrie hoped that this was the case, that he wasn't coming back and she'd never have to face him again…but only for a moment. He was coming back, of course he was. And she needed him to…she wanted him to. It was a more likely scenario that just like she was, Rick was taking a few moments to himself, digesting what had just happened to them. She pictured him sitting in the driver's seat, the gallon of gas in the tank and the keys in the ignition ready to start. He was probably sitting quietly, absorbing the circumstances and preparing himself for their next step.

Not wanting to dwell on this, Carrie forced herself back into action, knowing that there were things she needed to do. While Rick took care of the gas situation, she needed to focus her attention on the situation here. Beginning to ignore the dead men, she walked past them and started collecting their things, uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was robbing them. But they no longer needed whatever it was they had in their possession, and there was no use in it going to waste. She first rifled through the personal belongings in each of the four packs, dimly wondering which one belonged to Granger.

There was nothing of significance in the personal packs, the group possessing little more than clothing and toothbrushes. Moving them aside, she searched the men's bodies now, taking their knives and the radio one of them had clipped to his belt. With reluctance she picked up their guns, carefully holding them by the bottom of the handle. She knew they were likely loaded, and although she was probably capable of unloading them, for now she safely set them down by the front door. Even with what she had learned from Rick she was reluctant to try…she doubted she would ever completely trust her skills with a gun.

The guns safely set aside, she turned her attention to three black plastic tubs that were set out along the far wall of the living room. Choosing one at random, she opened the latches and removed the lid. Her eyes widened when she saw the contents, though really she should have expected this. There were an array of poorly organised medicines, dozens of blister packs and orange bottles strewn about the large tub. Rifling through them, Carrie frowned as she looked at the different medication names, only able to identify a few of them. She dug further past the ointments and cough syrups, finding stray batteries and toiletry items like toothpaste and shampoo. Putting the lid back on the poorly organised container, she picked it up and carried it over to the front door, wobbling a little as she stepped over one of the dead men's legs. Looking into the second tub, she found some tinned food and some cooking utensils, though it looked as though they were running low on the essentials. It appeared they hadn't found much success with scavenging food, making the task of carrying the tub over to the front door fairly easy. Bracing herself, for she knew what she was likely to find next, Carrie headed back and looked at the third plastic tub.

The blood spatter on the wall above was dripping, forming a small pool on the corner of the plastic lid. Looking at it distastefully, Carrie took one of the blankets off the floor and wiped at it, annoyed by the smears that wouldn't go away. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she tossed the blanket aside and opened the plastic tub. She wasn't taken aback to find that it was full of handguns, each of them of various sizes and styles. Weapons, firearms in particular, were as essential to life as food and water, so it wasn't surprising that a group like these men were forming their own stockpile. Gently poking around the tub she took note of the boxes of ammunition, each of them neatly stacked along the bottom with the guns tossed on top of them. Although she suspected the guns were not loaded, she knew better than to rely on that presumption, and so she didn't touch any of them. Instead she replaced the lid and then tried to pick the tub up, her strength failing her barely an inch off the ground.

She dropped the tub with a heavy thud, the windows rattling a little. Growling in frustration she looked at her skinny arms, remembering the hours she used to spend working out and building her strength. Until the outbreak she had been fit and strong, but after the outbreak and four months of near starvation her body's strength had wasted away. Vowing that she would start working out if she ever made it to Alexandria, she grit her teeth and picked up one end of the tub, using all her strength to drag it across the floor. She was resolutely determined to succeed, even if it meant straining a muscle or making a fool of herself. When she finally dragged it to the front door, she dropped it with a flourish and then tried to catch her breath.

Physically and mentally exhausted, Carrie sank down onto the tub full of guns, putting her head into one of her hands and closing her eyes. Listening to the deafening silence of the house, she again wondered when Rick was going to get back, beginning to feel a genuine sting of worry. If he was in trouble, he had no way of contacting her, no way of calling her for help…not that she would be able to do much anyway. With the way things were going, having her around seemed to be more of a hinderance than a help. Worried again, she got to her feet and took another look around, needing to occupy herself until he got back.

The group had largely kept their belongings confined to the living room, perhaps ensuring that they didn't leave anything behind. The only exception seemed to be the map and road guide that were on the dining room table. Unfolding the map, Carrie's eyes widened at the various markings that had been made. While the map Abraham carried in his back pocket was specifically colour coded with red, orange and green to indicate the safety of each road, this map seemed to bear no particular encoding. It was a map of the eastern states, and marked out in more than half a dozen different colours were routes that all started near Marion, Ohio. From there the marked routes spread out in all various directions, branching into different states and passing through small cities and towns. One particular route even reached as far north as Syracuse in New York…the only consistency among each of the routes was that they all began and ended in Ohio.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Carrie looked around the map to find the state of Virginia, her finger coming to rest on Washington. From what she had been told, Alexandria wasn't too far from there, and while none of the marked routes passed anywhere near the state's capital, it didn't exactly bode well for the occupants of the small community. One route marked in blue came as close as Cumberland in Maryland, and making her best judgement she figured it was only two or thee hours away from Washington.

Filled with restless energy and anxiety, Carrie left the map where it was and turned on her heel, needing to keep herself occupied. Bursting outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh air before marching across the yard to the garage. Though she knew Granger's dead body was in there, she didn't let herself think about it too much…there would be plenty of time for her to think about him, plenty of lonely hours where her thoughts drifted back to the few days spent with him and the others. For now she focused on her task instead, and putting her knife back into the holster she picked up the free empty gas containers.

Upon entering the garage, Carrie paused only long enough to take a good, long look at Granger's dead body, partly to reassure herself that he wasn't going to reanimate, another part of her wanting to revel in his death. Putting the empty containers down, she walked to the end of the garage, stepping over the hardware that had been knocked asunder when the fight between he and Rick went down. She turned to the enormous tank on the back of the pick up and began filling the gas containers, frowning distastefully as the fumes invaded her senses.

It was immensely satisfying to look down at Granger now, to see the path that she bullet she fired had taken through his head. Most definitely dead, he lay lifeless on the ground, his eyes open in a vacant stare to the opposite wall. Wanting to kill him quietly, Rick had wrapped a long blue cord around his neck, pulling it tight and strangling him with ease. Replaying the scene in her head, Carrie was horrified by the visceral fight she had been witness to, still able to picture every blow the two men inflicted, able to hear every gasp of pain. Her heart stammering, she remembered the flash of pain on Rick's face as Granger kneed him in the back, the way that despite his injuries, he had dominated the whole fight.

Rick had been in control the entire time, his movements and attacks expertly keeping Granger at bay from causing more serious harm. Right up until Granger found one last bout of strength, Carrie had simply watched in fascinated horror, but it was then that she panicked. Just as she started thinking it was over, that Rick had won at Granger was dead, he had lurched up again, knocking Rick astray. She couldn't bear to wait and see what happened, to do as she was told and stay back. Finding Rick's gun again, she pressed it against the side of his head and pulled the trigger, ignoring Rick's protests. Picturing that moment, she wished that Granger had been able to look at her, to know that she was the one who was going to kill him. But already half dead, his eyes were rolled back in his head, and he spluttered as he fought until the very last moment. In one way his death was highly dissatisfying for Carrie…but in another, the lack of dignity was appropriate.

Despite all this, guilt was burning in her stomach as she thought of the three others that had lost their lives that day. Even though Rick had been the one who killed them, she was the one who caused it. She should have trusted him, should have followed his lead right from the very beginning. In shooting Granger, she had not only killed him, but sealed the fate of the rest of his group. Out checking the fences, they had heard the second gunshot and come running back, fearing Granger was under attack from a Walker. It was bad enough that they had heard the first shot, but if Carrie hadn't fired a second, then perhaps she and Rick would have been able to make a quiet escape from the property, taking the gas they needed before hauling ass. Throughout the whole ordeal Rick had tried to reassure her that it was alright, a few nods of the head and meaningful glances trying to comfort her. But she wasn't used to being able to depend on someone, and in her panic she had forgotten that she could depend on Rick, even when it seemed like it was all going so wrong.

It had been a long time since someone protected her.

Nevertheless, the knowledge that it was she who sealed the fate of the three people didn't alleviate the frustration she felt, the absolute belief that killing them had been the wrong thing to do. They were innocent parties to what had happened in the garage, innocent to what Granger had done to her the previous summer, and they didn't deserve to die. Rationally she knew it had been their only option, that there was no way they could expect to simply apologise for killing Granger and then be on their way with half their gasoline. Rick already understood that killing people was a necessary aspect of nature, of his own nature…but Carrie had yet to find that understanding in herself. The notion that innocent people had to die so that she could live was a difficult one to swallow.

The peaceful silence was broken by the rumbling sound of an engine, but recognising it she didn't panic. It was Rick, and she absently listened as he drove up to the house and came to a stop, the engine falling silent a moment later. Completely confused, she wasn't sure whether or not she was glad he was back, still needing some time alone, but his arrival served to be a reassurance either way. Picturing him, she heard the car door open and close, followed by his footsteps as he crossed the front porch and entered the house. A minute or so later she heard his voice calling for her, her heart jolting as she realised he was panicked to have found her gone. Not wanting him to worry, she picked up the two containers that were full already and began heading for the garage door, her arms straining to carry the weight.

"Dammit, Carrie! Where are you?"

Emerging from the garage, Carrie watched as he stopped mid step, the sound of her name falling silent on his lips just as he had started to call for her again. There was a long pause before his shoulders slumped, and he gave a visible sigh of relief upon finding her safe. Not knowing what to say, she averted her eyes and headed over to the minivan, walking straight past him without a word. She didn't know what to say to him, she didn't know how to act. Everything that had happened was still so raw. As she passed him it looked as though he was going to say something, his feet shifting as though he was going to follow her. To her great relief he seemed to think better of it, and instead chose to leave her be.

By the time she reached the minivan and opened the gas tank, Rick had gone back inside, the screen door swinging closed behind him. Despite her relief that he was back safely, she also breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone, that she didn't have to pretend she knew what to say or feel. It felt very awkward with him in there and she out here…there was undoubtedly a great deal they both wanted to say to the other, but for now they avoided each other. Instead she focused her attention on filling the gas tank, shivering a little as a cold breeze swept over the property. Nervously, her eyes darted up to the house every now and then, and she wondered what Rick was doing in there, if he was looking through the three plastic tubs or consulting the map on the table.

She finished topping up the gas tank, estimating about fifteen gallons in addition to what Rick had already put in. Her arms were sore when she finished, her biceps aching with the strain of holding the heavy containers up to the gas tank. Flexing her shoulders, she looked at the garage and knew she should keep going…the sooner they were filled gassed the sooner they could get back to the others, and that was an imperative task. But instead she found herself walking towards the house, feeling ready to talk to Rick. Though he wouldn't need her to spell it out for him, she wanted to gauge his thoughts on the map she had found, to determine whether or not she had come to the same conclusion.

He was coming down the stairs when she stepped inside, his stomach exposed as he fixed the buttons on a new shirt. Looking at her in surprise, he quickly scrutinised her with a single glance, looking apprehensive to see she had come to find him. He appeared to have cleaned himself up a little, his hair damp and his face clean of blood spatter. Still fixing his shirt as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Carrie caught a glance at the back of his hands, seeing that he was covered in painful looking scratches. Remembering the fight with Granger, she pictured the man desperately clawing at Rick's hands while he was being strangled, doing everything he could to defend his life. Looking at the injuries, one of which was deep enough to have drawn blood, Carrie felt another flicker of guilt. If she had properly killed Granger months ago they wouldn't be in this position now.

"You alright?" Rick asked her, voicing her own question. Crossing the room he looked at her in concern, perhaps wondering if she was about to flip out.

She nodded. "Are you?" she countered, gesturing to his hands.

He too nodded, giving away no more information that than. There was another awkward moment, the type of which Carrie had though they had moved past. But given what had happened and the way she had so vocally disagreed with what he told her the other night, the awkwardness seemed entirely appropriate. As though not knowing what to do, Rick gave her a lingering glance before indicating to the map on the dining room table.

"Where did you find that?" he asked as he picked up the guns she had taken off the two men. Well practiced, he removed the magazine and then cleared the slides, tossing all the items into the plastic tub with the others.

"It was just sitting there," she answered, waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, his attention now focused on the tub full of medicine, she continued. "What do you think it means?"

He glanced up at her with a wry expression, suspecting she had already come to this conclusion herself. "It means this group were part of a larger group based in Ohio…and there a groups of them on supply runs through these states."

She nodded in agreement. "Do you think we'll run into them again? Another group, I mean…"

"I don't know," he said shortly. "I'll have to show it to Abraham."

"Okay."

He looked up at her now, his fingers turning an orange bottle of pills around and around in his hands. Tossing the pills back into the tub, he got back to his feet with her name on his lips. "Carrie," he began, reaching out his hand for her. "What just happened-"

"I'll finish with the gas."

She quickly turned away, but not fast enough to miss the brief flash of hurt that crossed his face. Trying not to look like she was fleeing, Carrie quickly walked back outside and picked up the empty gas containers. She wasn't ready to talk about what happened, for she knew there was going to be an inevitable argument.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N - Well done to bb2015 who binged on 26 chapters in two days! Good effort, thanks for the review :-)

* * *

Rick looked up at her now, his fingers turning an orange bottle of pills around and around in his hands. Tossing the pills back into the tub, he got back to his feet with her name on his lips. "Carrie," he began, reaching out his hand for her. "What just happened-"

"I'll finish with the gas."

She quickly turned away, but not fast enough to miss the brief flash of hurt that crossed his face. Trying not to look like she was fleeing, Carrie quickly walked back outside and picked up the empty gas containers. She wasn't ready to talk about what happened, for she knew there was going to be an inevitable argument.

The front door burst open just as she started heading for the garage, and she braced herself for the yelling to start. But when she looked around Rick was otherwise occupied, dragging one of the dead bodies out of the house and across the front porch. He didn't look at her, for which she was grateful, and the two of them simply went about their separate tasks, Carrie wondering why he bothered to move the bodies. It wasn't like they were staying there any longer than necessary. Focusing, she continued her task of getting the minivan's tank full, but this time as she headed into the garage, she didn't bother looking at Granger's corpse.

Working in silence, Carrie and Rick avoided eye contact, though she watched him from the corner of her eye not out of mistrust, but curiosity. Aside from having picked up on her animosity, Rick appeared completely unperturbed by what had happened, and he went about his work as though it was any other day. Carrying out the plastic tubs one by one, he rearranged everything they had brought with them to make room, clearing a space before bringing out the heavy tub full of guns. He carried it with ease, the heavy weight not a problem for him.

A short while later the gas tank was filled to the brim, and Carrie filled the containers one last time before putting them on the floor in the back. While she knew they needed to get back on the road, she understood that too much spare gas was still not enough, and so she filled every appropriate container she could find in the garage, securing them perhaps another gallon more. As she finished, her head aching from the fumes, Carrie stood back and watched as Rick too finished up. With a bucket full of water he was hastily washing down the exterior of the minivan, not wanting the others to know quite how badly they had been swarmed last night. There was nothing they could do about the damaged panels or the broken window, but they didn't have to make it so obvious.

"Have we got everything?" he asked, throwing aside the cloth he had been using. Wiping his hands dry on his jeans, he shivered from the cold. His warm jacket had been tossed into the trunk, marred with blood.

"Yes."

He nodded slowly, frowning as he looked around the property just in case. Turning back to her, he looked her in the eye. "Do you feel like driving?"

Judging by the dark marks under his eyes and the way he rolled his left shoulder, this was more of a request than an offer. Carrie nodded in agreement and took the keys from him, the two of them lingering for a moment before heading to their respective doors. They took their seats with a sigh of relief, Rick's head falling back as his eyes closed wearily. Starting the car signalled the last hurdle they had faced, and as the feeling of relief washed over her she turned on the heater, feeling the warm air beginning to flow from the vents. Adjusting the seat forward, she turned the minivan around and headed for the driveway. She made a quick adjustment to the rear view mirror, using it to look at the garage as they departed. Granger's body would lie in there for the foreseeable future, not afforded the dignified burial he didn't deserve. Just as she had months ago, she waited for the sense of closure to wash over her, to start feeling relieved by his death…but she didn't. Strangely enough it felt as though nothing had changed, as though him being dead didn't mean a thing.

Reaching the gate at the entrance, Carrie was surprised that Rick had closed it after entering, even more surprised when he closed it again. He stepped out to open it and let the car through, and then went to the effort of closing it again, sliding the chain through the latch and making sure it was secure. She waited for him patiently, taking a deep breath to steady herself before he returned. It felt like an entire gulf of unspoken words lay between them, and neither of them knew how to broach the subject first.

"Why did you bother closing it?" she asked as he took his seat.

"So that Walkers can't get in."

"Oh." Although they were not going to use it again, other people in the future might, and she now understood his reasons for removing the two bodies from the house. "Which way?" She felt disoriented faced with the two options, unsure of who way they had come the previous night.

"Left," he instructed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.

Making the turn, Carrie took them back the way they had come last night, retracing their steps back to the main road. The herd of Walkers would have passed the turn off many hours ago, and although it was fast approaching eight thirty in the morning, they were still in with a chance of catching up to their people. They would have left their makeshift camp site already, but given how long it took to pump gas they would still likely be in Rock Hill. Even if they were gassed up and ready to go, Carrie didn't anticipate that they would take off immediately…to do so would abandon two members of their group. They would wait for as long as they possibly could, and this knowledge brought her some comfort.

Everything was going to be alright now…they had plenty of gas to get them to Rock Hill, and their group would still be waiting for them. She automatically turned her head to share this optimism with Rick, her words falling short as she looked at him. He absently stared out the passenger window, his jaw set into a hard line as he pointedly avoided her. Her gaze dropping, she looked at his left hand in his lap, the one that had borne the worst of Granger's desperate attempt to save himself. His knuckles were red and a little swollen, as were the deep scratches on the back of his hand.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she thought back to their conversation the other night, remembering all the things he had told her. He had bluntly told her that killing became easier, that it was now a necessary part of life, even if she wasn't ready to accept it. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she questioned the ease with which he had come to his decision to kill, the ease with which he had killed innocent people without apology. He had told her it was a necessity, one which she would eventually come to understand and accept.

Knowing what she knew now, she wondered how much she really knew about him, questioning the value he placed on the lives he took. Would he do that to her? Remembering the clear division between his group and the Alexandrian's, she wondered where exactly he drew the line between who was his own, and who was a threat. One of the first things he had really said to her was a threat, a promise to kill her if she hurt his group. At the time she understood the desire to protect his own, but now she saw just how real that threat to her life had been.

"Carrie," he began softly, breaking her from her thoughts. Looking at him properly, she was alarmed to realise he had been watching her.

"Yes?"

Clearing his throat, Rick sat up properly. "If you've got something to say to me, then say it," he told her plainly, his voice low.

"No," she said very quickly, clenching her hands around the steering wheel. "I'm-"

"I can see the way you've been looking at me, so don't give me bullshit. Whatever it is you want to say, say it before we get back to the group."

Carrie took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to sort out everything she was thinking. There was so much going on in her head right now, so many things she was trying to work through. "There's nothing, Rick," she began tentatively, hoping he dropped the subject.

"Either say it, or stop giving me that mistrustful look," he said lowly.

Carrie's heart was pounding, knowing there was about to be an argument she wasn't prepared for. She knew what she wanted to say, the argument she wanted to make, but she knew it wasn't going to be well received. "Alright," she began, her voice weaker than she would have liked. "You didn't have to kill the others."

Rick gave a short laugh, turning his head and looking back out the window. "Say that like you mean it."

"I do," she said quietly.

"Please," he scoffed. "There's no way you could be that naive."

"How is that naive?"

"It's naive to think that there was any other option."

"There were other options."

"Like what?"

Looking back to the road, Carrie swallowed heavily, her heart pounding. "Just…pretend I didn't say anything, alright?"

"Then don't make me the bad guy," he said forcefully.

"I'm not trying to…" she trailed off with a sigh. "Please can we just drop it?"

"You want to drop this? Then stop giving me that filthy look."

Taking a deep breath, Carrie tried to fix a blank expression onto her face, to be indifferent to the choices he had made that morning. But that was easier said than done. "You shouldn't have killed the others," she snapped impulsively, repeating what she had said before.

There was a long pause, and Carrie glanced over to see him looking at her with a stony expression. "I'll accept one good reason why," he prompted.

"Why?" she questioned incredulously. "Because they were innocent!"

"I never said they were guilty."

His acknowledgement of this surprised her. "Then why did you kill them?"

"Because they would have killed us," he stated factually.

Frustrated, Carrie clenched her jaw as she shook her head. "You don't know that."

"Granger was one of them, he was part of their group and we killed him."

"If we told them what he did, who he was-"

"And prove it how?" Rick asked angrily, turning in his seat to look at her.

"I…I would have told them."

"All they would have known is that we were stealing their gas, and that we killed one of them. That wasn't exactly a pleasant death either, there's no way anyone would look past that."

Having no argument against this, she took pause, thinking. "They were innocent," she repeated softly. "We should have given them the benefit of the doubt."

"And when things go wrong? When we tell them what we did, and they start a gun fight? What would we do then, Carrie?"

"We would defend ourselves," she said, knowing her argument was weakening.

"It takes just one bullet, and it's over!" he said vehemently. "One bullet, and my kids spend the rest of their lives wondering why I didn't come back to them. I can't take that risk."

"Okay. I get it," she said gently.

"You don't have children, so I highly doubt that."

She grit her teeth at this remark. "That's why you should have let me handle them in the first place. No one is depending on me to come back. I can take that risk for the group."

Rick gave a low laugh, the darkness of it making her take her eyes off the road and look over at him. He was looking out the window now, his elbow resting on the door as he scratched his jaw. Taking a heavy breath, it was clear he was trying to restrain himself.

"I know how you would have handled them," he told her, his tone furious. "It was exactly what he was waiting for."

"Who? Granger?"

"Yeah." He looked at her now. "He knew exactly what you'd do, how you'd try to protect yourself."

As shame filled the pit of her stomach, Carrie looked back at the road, tormented by the knowledge that Granger had been expecting what she offered him. She had played right into his hands, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"You can't go offering things like that, and expect me to sit back and let it happen."

Understanding the horrible position she had put him in, she nodded in understanding. She knew how much it pained her last group to know what she was doing for them, to know that there was little that could do for her. Glancing at Rick, her heart sank even more when she saw the expression on his face, one that conveyed his horror at what she had intended to do to save both of them.

"He was going to kill us," she said weakly.

"Do you think I didn't know that?"

"He had our guns."

"So?"

She looked at him again. "So?" she asked incredulously. "I didn't have a choice!"

"You had me!" he suddenly shouted, the harshness of his tone making her jump.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly she tried to concentrate on the road ahead of her, feeling herself getting upset. There was no time to lose her cool, to succumb to her emotions even though all she wanted to do was falling into a heap and cry. "He had your gun too."

"I don't need my gun!"

Swearing under her breath, Carrie took a deep breath, letting her mind flash back to the previous summer. She remembered the way he used to hit her, how he'd hold her down and choke her when they had sex. "You didn't know him," she insisted, her voice struggling to stay even. "He was violent."

"No shit, he's a rapist."

"What was I supposed to do?" she appealed. "Hey was going to kill us."

"I was handling it!" he yelled again. "You think he was in charge of anything back there?"

"I don't know! Okay? I don't know! All I knew was that we were tied up, and he had your gun! I didn't know what else to do."

"So you offer him sex, again?" Fuming, Rick didn't hold back. "You didn't trust me to protect you, so you spread your legs for him? Where the fuck is the sense in-"

Cutting him off, Carrie slammed the brakes on hard, the minivan violently skidding to a stop in the middle of the road. Without a seatbelt on Rick lurched forward and braced himself against the windscreen, swearing in surprise. He looked at her incredulously, his lips parting to say something until he caught a glimpse of her expression. Seething in anger, Carrie practically tore the keys from the ignition and burst out of the car, missing the moment when Rick realised he realised he had gone too far. Almost staggering away from the car she took a deep breath, filling her lungs as much as she could while at the same time resisting the need to scream until her throat hurt. It took all she had to not throw the car keys into the nearby field, to not delay them and infuriate Rick as much as he had her.

"Carrie, I'm sorry," Rick rushed to say, he too bursting out of the car. "I didn' - "

"Shut up!" she shouted at him, her voice breaking a little. "Just, shut up!"

Halfway to her, Rick stopped in his tracks, his hands clenched into fists as he looked her her remorsefully. Not caring about his regret, Carrie slowly turned away from him, running her fingers through her hair as she focused on breathing, on keeping control of herself. She couldn't melt down right now, and especially not in front of Rick. Tears welled up against her will, and she hastily pressed her palms against her eyes, forcing it to stop. Clearing her throat, she brushed her hair behind her ears before turning back around to face him. He was apprehensively awaiting what she would say next.

"Is that what you think of me?" she asked, challenging him. "That because last night and because of Granger, I'm a whore who'll spread her legs for anyone?"

"No," he said hastily, coming forward a few steps. "I never said that."

Matching his steps, Carrie moved backwards. "But you think it?"

"No!"

"But you think I should have just killed Granger's who group? That the moment they rocked up on my doorstep, I should have opened fire?"

Sighing, he looked her in the eye. He look a long breath, calming himself before he spoke. "Yes. You should have just killed them," he said bluntly, his tone beginning to soften next. "But I understand why you didn't…I've been there too. Killing was not easy for me, not at the start of all of this."

"Then what you're saying, is that I took the easy way out."

"What?"

"That killing them was too hard, so I just had sex with them instead. Why, because it was easier?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Carrie! That's not - "

"How easy do you think it was to let three men have sex with me? Three repulsive, vile men who then refused to leave. Was that the easy way out, Rick?"

Visibly flinching at what she had said, Rick paused for a moment. He turned away from her with a short sigh, his hand rubbing his jaw nervously. When he spoke, he chose his words very carefully. "No," he began, looking back at her. "I don't think that was easy for you."

"Good. And for the record, I don't have gonorrhoea…I told them that, so they-"

"I know," he said shortly. "I get it…"

"Good."

"I don't think you're a whore, either," he continued, looking at her imperatively. "I just…I just need you to understand!"

"Understand what?"

"That you should have killed Granger the moment you saw him, the moment you realised what he was."

She gave a bitter laugh. "By the time I realised, it was too late."

"Because you gave him the benefit of the doubt."

"Yes."

"Then why are you giving me such a hard time about the other three?"

Growling under her breath, she realised they were back at this again. "Because they were innocent."

"You can't give everyone the benefit of the doubt," he told her fiercely, stepping closer again. "Not when your life is on the line."

"What about their lives? Are their lives unimportant?"

"Of course not, I'm not a psychopath," he said angrily. "But we are more important. I know they were probably innocent, but we posed a threat to them, therefore they posed a threat to us!"

"Jesus, Rick!" she shouted angrily. "Not everyone is out to get you!"

"It turns out they usually are. My best friend turned on me, he tried to-"

"Shane? From the sounds of it, he was a loose cannon. Let it go."

This seemed to take him by surprise. "Let it go?' he questioned. He took a long pause, pretending to consider this. "Alright…Glenn was nearly beaten to death once, but I'll let that go. The prison was attacked again and again until it fell. Herschel was beheaded, Carl was almost raped, Beth was run over and shot…but I'll let all that go. And then Termi…" Rick trailed off, looking at her as a bitter smile came over his face.

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "You want to know what happened at Terminus?" he asked her, his tone indicating he would tell her anyway. "You want to know what happened to your friends who went in first?"

Carrie hesitated. "No," she shook her head.

"It was a perfect strategy…they didn't have to do much to draw people in. When people came looking for sanctuary, they were killed for food. "

Feeling her heart jolt, Carrie swayed on her feet. She'd imagined a variety of scenarios that might have befallen Tim and Ross that day, this one too…and she had led them there, had insisted it would be safe. "I don't want to know anymore," she said quietly.

Rick wasn't having any of that, and he continued nonetheless. "Your friends were locked into train cars. They had their throats cut…their bodies were dismembered, and then they were hung out to dry like a side of beef."

"Okay, I get it," she said weakly, wanting him to stop.

"No, I don't think you do. When we ended up there, we nearly didn't make it out. Afterwards, they followed us. Then they grabbed one of us. Bob. They chopped off his leg and then ate it right in front of him."

Feeling her jaw trembling, tears welled up in Carrie's eyes, and this time she let them fall. "I get it," she repeated herself, her voice weaker than she would have liked.

"Do you see the common theme here? It's people doing this to us! People!"

"I get it!" she shouted, wanting him to stop.

"Good," he said shortly. "It's about time."

There was a short pause now, giving her the opportunity to wipe the moisture off her cheeks. Looking away from him, she felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of everything that was being said, of everything that had happened. With so much to think about, she had no idea where to start.

"Carrie, this is the world now," Rick started again. "I know you think you get it, but you don't. Not yet, anyway. You can't always give the benefit of the doubt. Now killing Granger…neither of us are going to lose sleep over him, but the others I killed? I'm not losing sleep over them either."

"Why not?" she asked softly.

"Because I don't answer to them," he told her, his voice gentler now. He approached her tentatively, relieved when she didn't back away. "The only people I answer to are my children, and my group. If I have to kill three people who probably didn't deserve it, just so I can get back to them, then I will."

Feeling her jaw begin to tremble, Carrie clenched it shut as she nodded. What he was saying didn't sound so crazy…it didn't sound so unreasonable. "I get it," she said softly.

"Then, why are you giving me such a hard time?" he asked in defeat.

Not knowing what to say, she just didn't answer. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hair off her face, feeling the wind whipping it around. She felt her eyes beginning to moisten again, everything he was saying ringing true…too true. Beginning to see his perspective, she looked at the ground, hating that he was right. "I…" she began, taking a deep breath as she looked around. "I'm sorry."

There was a short pause, and she could hear him shifting his feet. "Carrie, I need you to be really honest with me," he began nervously. "What you were offering Granger…sex for protection. Is that what you're doing with me?"

Looking up at him now, she was alarmed to see that he looked hurt, that he was scared of her answer. "No," she urgently replied. "I already told you, no."

"Forgive me for asking twice," he muttered sarcastically.

"Rick, I…" she started, her thoughts all jumbled. "I'm not using you, I can survive on my own. I'm with you and your group because I want to be."

"You can survive?" he questioned.

"Yes."

He shook his head. "No, you can't…not if you're not willing to kill."

"Well I'm not," she said vehemently. "Not innocent people."

"One day, your survival is going to come down to whose life you value more," he said imperatively. "It's you or them. There's no middle ground, there's no compromise. You've got to protect yourself!"

"I am protecting myself," she insisted, her voice tight with emotion as she looked up at him. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

He looked at her with anguish in his eyes, longing for her to understand. "At what cost?"

She looked away again, not wanting him to see just how deep his question reached. Her attempts at survival had almost broken her, had already pushed her to the point of not wanting to go on any more. But just as strong as her instinct to survive was the desire to do so without getting blood on her hands…given what had happened today, she knew this wasn't going to be the case forever. A few moments passed in silence, allowing them both to collect their thoughts.

"Carrie, I need you to hear what I'm about to say," Rick continued. He was right in front of her now, leaning towards her a little.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for his intense gaze before looking at him. "I'm listening," she said quietly.

"You are a part of this group now. You don't have to have sex with strangers to protect yourself. Not anymore."

She swallowed heavily, wishing he understood. "That was all I had."

"I know," he nodded. "But the things you did before…you don't have to do them again. You're with us now."

"Okay," she whispered quietly.

"And you have to trust me," he continued, making sure she listened. "Even when things are going to shit, and it doesn't look like we're going to survive it, you need to trust me."

"I will."

"I hope so," he said seriously, looking her in the eye. "Because what happened today is going to happen again. What you will and won't do to protect yourself is your business. But you're part of a group that includes my children. One day, you're going to have to kill for them."

"Yes," she whispered again, knowing he was right.

Against her will more tears spilled from her eyes, and she hastily brushed them away before they reached her cheeks. Shaking with emotion, Carrie took another deep breath, looking away as Rick's intense gaze became too much. They stood barely a foot from each other, but the chemistry that would have normally seen them seeking each other out was absent now. A long moment passed, the awkward silence broken as they noticed three Walkers in the near by field. They were pressed up against the low fence, their arms flailing towards them as one toppled over to the other side.

"Let's go," Rick muttered, reaching for the keys in her hand.

Shaking her head, Carrie pulled her hand back. "No. I want to drive," she said, needing to feel the steering wheel beneath her hands, needing something to hold on to.

Accepting this, Rick stepped back and waited patiently, cautiously putting his hand on her shoulder when she didn't move. For a moment she wondered if he would try to hug her, and she was conflicted about whether or not she wanted this, part of her wanting the comfort of an embrace, another needing to keep her personal space. Simply urging her forward, Rick kept his distance until she began walking back to the car. Clearing her throat, she got back into the driver's seat and started the engine, avoiding Rick's eyes as he too got in. This time he put his seat belt on, rubbing the forearm he had used to brace himself when she had suddenly slammed on the brakes.

Without another word Carrie sped off down the road, trying to leave her past behind once and for all.

* * *

Their argument concluded, Rick and Carrie travelled in silence, the intensity of what had been said rendering them both mute. His attention focused on the scenery flashing by out his window, Rick stewed in his thoughts, feeling immense guilt for some of the things he had said. In this midst of his own anger and frustration he had all but called her a whore…certainly that's how she had heard it. While he had apologised, genuinely not thinking of her in that way, he knew the words would have hurt to hear after what she had been through. Scratching his short beard, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye and reminded himself to be patient, to be more understanding of where she was at. He knew first hand what it was like to have someone try force the understanding on him. Shane had insisted that this was who they needed to become, but Rick hadn't been ready to hear it.

Looking at Carrie sympathetically, he knew he couldn't expect her to accept the new reality because Rick told her too. He wasn't Shane. He couldn't force this on her and expect her to agree with him. She had to learn for herself…and she would. She was. In that moment Rick wanted to apologise to her, to make amends for the fact that he was pushing her too hard. But he stopped himself, thinking that maybe she needed the silence. Certainly it was conducive to deep thinking.

Besides, he didn't really know what to say.

Almost half an hour passed by the time they reached the stretch of road where the others had spent the night in the back of the removal truck, relieved to find that all of the vehicles had successfully gassed up and departed for Rock Hill. Upon seeing this Rick and Carrie shared a glance, the brief eye contact enough to affirm this understanding. Watching the time closely, Carrie accelerated the minivan, increasing their speed despite the risk of hitting stray Walkers.

Less than twenty miles away, they reached Rock Hill a little after nine o'clock in the morning, Carrie slowing down and sticking to the main roads as they began looking for the group. They passed an empty gas station as they entered the town and continued on, knowing that even if their group had departed already, there would be someone lingering there to wait for them. Following the roads free of traffic blockages they began to draw the attention of nearby Walkers, but Carrie carefully swerved around them, only one of them managing to throw itself against the passenger side door as it passed them by. Barely a minute later, they turned a corner and saw a familiar group of cars stopped ahead below an Esso sign, Rick's heart swelling with relief. With a long sigh he looked at Carrie with a tentative smile, their mutual relief too much to ignore. As they drew closer, the last opportunity to say something to her in private grew distant.

"Carrie," he began, speaking for the first time since their argument. "What you did last night, leading the herd away…thank you."

Stopping just outside the gas station, Carrie engaged the handbrake before looking up at him. As their group began rushing over to them, she gave him a slow nod. "You too…thanks, I mean."

For a moment it looked as though she was going to say something else, but the opportunity was not afforded to her. Much like the Walkers had last night, their worried group swarmed the car, opening their doors with groans of relief. Still looking at her, Rick saw the moment her expression changed, her face going from tense and uncomfortable to a facade of happiness. He knew she was just putting on a brave face for the others, but there wasn't time for him to worry about her right now. Instead he focused his attention on the others, on Carl who was impatiently trying to get his attention.

Amazed that after such close calls with death he was still able to do so, Rick stepped out of the car and pulled Carl into his arms, ignoring everyone else in favour of him. They often reunited after periods of danger, most recently on their way to Alexandria for the first time, and the relief he felt at seeing his son again never waned. Holding him tightly, Rick gave a muttered reassurance that he was fine, that they'd just been inconveniently delayed.

"Where's Daryl?" Rick demanded, looking around and not seeing him. Having released Carl he was exchanging quick greetings with everyone else, relieved each time he found the faces he was seeking…all except for two. "And Aaron? Where are they?"

"'They went looking for you," Abraham informed him, clapping him on the shoulder as greeting. "Left an hour ago."

"How far were they going?"

"Said they'd go a little south of Masonry road. What took you so long? We were expecting you to double back after the herd finished passing you."

Pausing before he answered, Rick looked around for Carl, ensuring that he was now well out of ear shot. "We, uh…we were short on gas," he said shortly, looking around at the others too. Glenn had opened the trunk of the minivan, unapologetically looking in the three tubs as Aidan joined him.

Abraham looked at him skeptically. "You had a full tank and more to spare. How in God's good name did you get short on gas?"

"We went through more than we expected," he shrugged, wearily rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We lost track of where we were, and by the time we turned off, we were low. We stopped for the night, and then had to find some more."

"So you got lost?" Abraham questioned. "On a straight road?"

"We did not get lost," Rick clarified. "We just misplaced where we were."

"A distinction without a difference." Shaking his head, Abraham muttered something under his breath that sounded like Dickhead. "What happened to your radio? We stopped hearing from you after midnight."

Rick shrugged, the night before feeling as though it had happened weeks ago. "Must of lost range."

Looking around at everyone, he took note of what everyone was doing, catching himself up on their progress. Keeping watch, Michonne was on the radio trying to signal Daryl and Aaron, while Rosita, Carrie and Nicholas conversed quietly by the removal truck. Tobin worked alone, continuing to pump the gas from the underground tank. Still concerned by what had happened that morning and their subsequent argument, he watched Carrie for a few moments, wondering how much of her cheerful demeanour was a facade. She was hastily pulling on a pair of jeans over her yoga pants as she talked, laughing as Nicholas said something

"Rick," Glenn said quietly, leaving Aidan to look at the tub of guns with wide eyes. "Where did those supplies come from?"

Hesitating, Rick glanced back at Carrie, wondering if she had said anything yet. Should he be honest? Certainly he could be honest with his group, they would understand…although the look on Aidan's face made him a little uncertain. There would be no hiding what had happened, not with the unexpected addition of supplies and the numerous scratches on his hands.

"We ran into some trouble," he softly admitted, absently fiddling with one of the pouches on his duty belt.

He didn't need to say anything else, Glenn and Abraham understanding what he meant. Aidan on the other hand, wasn't so easily appeased. Looking at them incredulously, he left the trunk full of supplies and came over.

"What do you mean you ran into trouble?" he asked suspiciously. "Where did all that come from?"

"Leave it alone, Aidan," Glenn told him lowly, gritting his teeth.

"No, a reasonable explanation is called for," Aidan insisted, squaring up to Rick. "What happened to the people you took these supplies from?"

"Aidan," Glenn said forcefully, stepping towards him. "Back off. You hear me?"

"No, I-"

"Enough," Rick said impatiently, laying his hand on Glenn's shoulder. As he knew he would, Glenn stood down, and Rick looked Aidan in the eye as he opened the passenger door and took something from the glove compartment. Ushering the three men with him, he spread the map across the hood and pointed to marked routes that all began and ended in Ohio. "I took the supplies from a group who attacked us this morning…they had this map with them."

There was a general consensus of disbelief, Abraham swearing as he traced his finger over the routes that passed through North and South Carolina. "Mother Dick…these are supply runs?"

"Looks like it," Rick agreed. "The group we ran into this morning were most likely on this route here, that's the closest one to where we are now."

"Were they the only supply runners taking on all these routes one at a time," Aidan began, his tone less confrontational. "Or are there multiple groups on supply runs all at once?"

"I don't know for sure…but I'd expect they were part of a much larger group from Ohio. Abraham, you and Aaron might need to reevaluate our route home, make sure we don't come anywhere near these routes."

"That could be a problem," Glenn piped up, frowning as he scoured the map for a particular city. "The underground bunker and Walmart…they're in Franklin. That's right by the path of this route here, the blue one."

"We might have to leave it then."

"We can't leave it," Aidan argued. "A month ago when we checked Walmart, it was completely untouched. There's a pharmacy, grocery, auto shop. We can't leave it for someone else."

"The same with the bunker," Glenn reluctantly agreed. "Nicholas says that guy living there stockpiled food, weapons and medicine."

"Might be a risk worth taking," Abraham commented, gauging Rick's response.

Considering this, Rick slowly nodded. He knew the risks involved in taking such an extended supply run, he knew there would be other people that they might run into. "I'll leave this to you and Aaron to discuss," he told Abraham, looking to Glenn and Aidan next. "Make sure everyone sees this, that they know what we might be facing. I'm going to pump gas."

"Hey, Rick," Aidan said hastily, catching up with him as he headed for the underground gas tanks. "Just so we're clear, this group…they're dead?"

Though he'd rather tell Aidan to fuck off and mind his own business, Rick knew he had to give him a satisfactory answer. Flexing his jaw, he looked him in the eye and nodded. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"They attacked you?" he clarified. Rick nodded again, not getting into the finer details that involved Carrie. Apparently accepting this, Aidan echoed his nod. "Alright…no problem here."

"Good to know," Rick muttered, turning away and heading over to Carl. He was standing on the pavement keeping watch now, Herschel's old crutches on the ground by his feet.

"Everything alright?" Carl asked, gesturing his head towards the minivan where Abraham had summoned the others over.

"It's fine," he assured him, scrutinising the rifle and silencer Carl was holding. "When they're all finished, get someone to take over watch and then go talk to Abraham…he'll fill you in. How did everything go last night?"

"Awful, but it was alright," Carl shrugged, raising the rifle and peering down the scope. Taking aim at a Walker down the street, he moved his finger to the trigger and breathed slowly, firing a second later. "Tobin threw up from the smell, and then Nicholas did too. Michonne baby sat me like always."

"Did she now?" Rick smiled, looking at the fallen Walker Carl had shot.

"Yeah. We drew pictures on each other's back and had to guess them…she won."

Shaking his head to himself, Rick headed for the gas pumps. Needing to find distraction from the sheer exhaustion he felt, Rick set about the task of pumping some more gas, wanting the cars full and ready to depart shortly after Daryl and Aaron returned. He and Carrie exchanged a very brief glance as he walked past her, but they didn't say or do anything else. While Rick siphoned gas, Abraham explained the problems they would be facing on the final leg of their journey, ensuring that everyone was up to speed. One by one the others listened and then got back to work. To their immense relief, Daryl and Aaron came back into range half an hour later, catching Michonne's radio call that told them Rick and Carrie had returned. They returned as quickly as they could, though by the time they returned to Rock Hill it was past ten thirty in the morning. Nearly half the day had been wasted in avoiding the herd, but given that each of his group were safely on the other side of it, Rick wasn't complaining.

"Where the fuck you been?" Daryl demanded gruffly, he and Rick sharing a rough embrace.

"Long story. Abraham will fill you in. You shouldn't have gone looking for us."

Daryl just grunted, lighting a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke towards Rick. "You can't boss me around."

"No," he agreed, glaring at him as he avoided the cloud of smoke. "I'm no Carol."

Daryl departed with a strongly worded farewell, heading over to Carrie. He lowered his cigarette and kept it out of the way as they spoke, and Rick could tell by his body language that he was thanking her. He knew Daryl well, and could anticipate what he was going to do next. They talked for a few moments before he took out his crumpled packet of cigarettes, flipping the lid open and offering one to Carrie. She looked surprised at his gesture, but shook her head and politely refused, laughing a moment later. Daryl just nodded and returned his highly coveted cigarettes to his pocket, he and Aaron heading over to Abraham to be filled in on what they had missed. Looking at Carrie now, Rick wondered if she knew how much this particular gesture from Daryl actually meant.

"Is Carrie alright?" Michonne asked him a little while later, referring to the group that had attacked them.

Standing side by side, they watched as the others finished up, distributing coffee and food to get them through the day. Rick hesitated, grateful that no one else knew the full extent of what had happened that morning, of who it was that had attacked them. Days ago Carrie had asked him to keep his knowledge of her past private, and he wasn't going to betray that trust.

"She wasn't hurt," he answered.

"But is she alright?" Michonne pressed. "She's awfully cheerful for someone who got attacked today."

Rick nodded in agreement, wishing he had some indication as to exactly how much of that was a facade. "She's putting on a brave face," he acknowledged. He looked at Michonne in admiration, though he shouldn't be surprised by her concern. "But I don't know for sure."

Sighing, Michonne folded her arms. "I'll talk to her later today."

"Thank you. She might need that."

"Oh, and by the way…what happened to the minivan?"

Rick faltered at this unexpected question, and he avoided eye contact when he answered. Michonne could read him like a book. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

Michonne quirked an eyebrow. "It kind of looks like something surrounded it…like something was pushing on it from all sides."

Clearing his throat, Rick shrugged innocently. "That's…your opinion."

"Ah huh," Michonne muttered, shaking her head to herself as Carl began heading their way.

"Come on, you two," Carl hustled them, everyone else ready to depart. "I'm driving."

Immediately protesting this, Michonne dangled the keys in front of him and then raced for the driver's seat, easily beating him there. Rick on the other hand lingered a little while, watching as the others got into the vehicles and started the engines. He liked to keep track of who was with who, always doing a paranoid headcount as if there was the possibility someone would accidentally be left behind. Seeing Carrie approaching the last car, the minivan Glenn was driving, Rick felt the urge to go to her now…he needed to say something…he just didn't know what. Perhaps she was thinking the same way, for Carrie hesitated before getting onto the passenger seat, and she looked around before finding him. Watching each other from across the gas station, there was a long moment as they both waited for the other to do something, to act first. He could tell Carrie wanted to say something to him too, but she seemed to lose her nerve. Her shoulders slumping a little, she looked away and got into the minivan.

Rick lingered a little longer, mentally preparing himself. The way things had been left between he and Carrie was not okay, and given what had gone on with the two of them last night and early that morning, he knew they needed to speak. Telling Michonne to give him a moment, he closed the passenger door and approached the minivan, looking around to see if anyone was watching what he was doing. Grateful that it was only she and Glenn in there, he politely tapped on the passenger window. She looked both surprised and relieved to see him, and she lowered the electric window without hesitation.

"Hey," she greeted him politely.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She nodded, opening her door and stepping out. Closing it behind her, she looked at him expectantly, half knowing what he was going to say. Rick glanced back into the minivan and looked at Glenn, who was trying hard to pretend he wasn't eavesdropping. Tapping on the open window, Rick cleared his throat and made his request clear. With obvious disappointment, Glenn raised the window and gave them some privacy.

He began tentatively, starting with something easy. "You know, Daryl doesn't offer a cigarette to just anyone. It's a big deal."

"How so?"

Rick shrugged. "It's his seal of approval…doesn't come easy."

"Good to know."

Sighing, he forced himself to say what he had approached her for, to just go for it. "Look, Carrie…I know things were said earlier…and I know I can be a bastard sometimes. I'm sorry."

Understanding the seriousness of his apology, she nodded graciously. "Thank you. I'm sorry too…for what I said."

Accepting her apology though he didn't think he deserved it, Rick nodded too. They stood there awkwardly, neither of them knowing what else to say. They couldn't leave it at that…there was more to be said, more going on between them than one argument. What was going on between them needed to be addressed, in one way or another. Rick knew that nothing he had learned or seen from her had changed the way he wanted her, but there had to be the understanding that something had changed. He struggled to find the right words, but thankfully Carrie spoke first.

"Rick," she said urgently, her hand brushing his to get his attention. "I don't think you're a bad person…I'm sorry that I acted like you were."

Her sincere apology hit him harder than it probably should, and it was a relief to know that's not what she thought. There had been a time when Lori had thought he was a bad person, the morning after they had lost the farm when he told her about Shane. He knew she regretted the severity of her poor reaction, but she'd never been able to apologise for it…mainly because he never let her. Carrie on the other hand, her apology came even though he hadn't been asking for it, and it had just as much impact. He understood what else she was trying to say, that her feelings or attraction to him hadn't changed.

"Thank you."

With the argument done and dealt with, it suddenly felt as though nothing at all had happened since the last time they had kissed. He looped his thumbs around his duty belt to stop them reaching out for her, and he shifted his weight nervously. What had happened to her…he needed to find some way of telling her that even though he was going to give her space now, he wasn't rejecting her. While it had certainly taken a back seat, his desire and attraction to her hadn't changed. But he couldn't expect the same from her, they couldn't pretend nothing had happened.

"Are we okay?" he asked outright. "You and me?"

"Yeah," she nodded without hesitation. "We're okay."

"Good."

There was a long pause now, the two of them standing before one another as they struggled to get everything out in the open, both knowing what they wanted to say, just not how to say it. To his surprise, Carrie reached out and brushed her hand against his, a more than friendly gesture than made his heart speed up a little. He watched her carefully, following her gaze as she looked at the other cars. They were packed in such a formation that they couldn't see Rick and Carrie directly, and looking into the Hyundai they could just make our Carl's silhouette through the window. He was leaning into the front seat, pressing the buttons on the stereo system.

"What is it?" he asked.

She didn't answer immediately. Confident that Carl at least wasn't watching, Carrie stepped closer and without hesitation kissed him gently. She didn't linger, knowing they likely had an audience of some kind, but her action was clear and without misinterpretation. Both surprised and confused, Rick watched her as she took a step back and returned to a platonic distance, and he could tell she anxious for his reaction. Was she worried that he didn't want her anymore, that the things Granger had said repulsed him? Anxious, he turned and looked over his shoulder, relieved to see that Carl's attention was still on the stereo.

"I wouldn't do that with him watching," Carrie muttered.

Nodding, Rick clenched his hands into fists, wishing that he could reach out for her. Putting them into his pockets instead, he pawed the ground with the toe of his boot, plagued by uncertainty and indecision. His head bowed, Rick raised his eyes to Glenn in the car, glad to see that despite his curiosity, he was looking somewhere else. He wanted to say something to her, but he still didn't know what…hell, he didn't know where to look.

"Nothing has changed, Rick," Carrie said, seeing that he wasn't going to say anything. "Not for me, anyway."

He didn't immediately reply, still trying to find the right words. "I don't want that from you," he began, hastily correcting himself as he realised what he said. "I mean, I want it…but I don't expect it. You don't owe me anything."

"I'm not using you for protection," she said, repeating what she had told him earlier.

"I know," he assured her, trying not to dwell on that particular fear. "But I'd understand if things had changed for you, if you wanted me to give you space."

"I know what you're trying to say. Nothing has changed. Not for me."

Frowning at this, Rick sighed as he looked away for a moment, trying to understand. It wasn't his position to tell her how to feel about the things that had happened, but he couldn't help but question it. "Why?"

"Because what happened with those men is not going to rule my life," she said vehemently, the conviction in her voice making him look at her. "It didn't before, and it won't now."

His jaw clenched, Rick saw no suitable response other than a simple nod of acceptance. The certainty in her voice was what he needed to hear from her, her strength reassuring him that while she was putting on a happy facade for the rest of the group, it wasn't entirely false.

"Alright," he agreed slowly, accepting her answer. Still twisting the two of his boot on the ground, he sighed as he felt their conversation drawing to a close. They didn't have time to linger anymore…they had lost enough hours already. Clearing his throat, he looked her in the eye as he said one last thing. "Carrie, whatever happens next with us…it's your move."

She actually cracked a smile at this, the slight curve of her mouth movement making Rick want to kiss her properly. Restraining himself, he turned away from her and departed without another word, relieved that they seemed to have resolved things for now. Reaching the Hyundai, he glanced back at her, pleased to see that she was getting into the back of the minivan, likely going to stretch out and get some sleep. His head was spinning with everything that had happened, and it felt like days ago that they had left the group behind to lead the herd away. So much happened between the two of them that night, and the sheer weight of everything was staggering.

"Dad," Carl interrupted his thoughts, lowering the back window. "Is she okay?"

Looking at Carl, he was proud of his son's thoughtfulness, his caring nature. "You want to ride in the front?"

Pleasantly surprised by this offer, Carl didn't nag for an answer to his question. Letting him take the front seat where he and Michonne could keep each other company, Rick kicked off his boots and stretched out across the back, rearranging the pillows and bedding that had been haphazardly thrown in. While it hurt to lay down, the motion aggravating the left side of his chest, his whole body groaned in relief now that he was off his feet. His exhaustion made it all too easy to get comfortable, and he was fast asleep before their convoy of cars departed Rock Hill.

* * *

A/N - I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and that it was a good resolution for you. Many thanks to my beta Angie B who helped refine the fight between Rick and Carrie.

I'm going to make it a habit to start responding to reviews from now on, as I do appreciate them. Plus it means I can answer questions for you more directly.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N - Wow, thank you for the awesome reviews! I'm so glad you all liked chapter 28, as it's one of my favourites. I do love a good argument between passionate characters. Sorry that I can only respond to reviews that are logged in, but I still get to read and thoroughly enjoy guest reviews.

Jofrench 22 - I am definitely sticking to canon in many ways - what an awesome season 6! Thanks for your review.

* * *

Dawn broke early over Alexandria, and roused by the slithers of light that crept in through the curtains, Carol's eyes slowly flickered open. She gave a long sigh as she awoke, the difficult night leaving her with less sleep than she would have liked. Turning her head she cast her eyes onto the culprit, Judith, glad to see that she was finally sleeping comfortably. Clutching a piece of fabric that had once been Rick's shirt, she sucked on her pacifier as she slept beside Carol, her bottom in the air and her limbs tucked up beneath her. Back on a steady diet of formula and good food, Judith was growing like a weed, her limbs lengthening almost as much as her wispy blonde hair. But with a new tooth set to break through her top gum any day now, Judith had spent the night suffering through the discomfort, her restlessness keeping both she and Carol awake.

Watching her as she slept soundly, Carol resisted the urge to touch Judith's hair, to run her fingers through the curls forming at the nape of her neck. Instead, she got out of her warm and comfortable bed and headed into her en suite bathroom to turn on the shower. Leaving the door ajar so that she could hear Judith, Carol went about her morning routine with little interest, though she took pause to be grateful for the hot shower she was receiving. Despite her reservations about Alexandria and its people, there were some things that she ought to be grateful for. She quickly donned the clothing she disliked and then dabbed a little make up onto her face. Prior to Alexandria she hadn't worn make up, Ed having never allowed it. But the other women here wore it, and therefore it was necessary that she did too. Fixing her hair, she applied a little spray and corrected some fly away hairs, amused by what Daryl would say if he was ever privy to her new morning routine.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she repeated the words Daryl had said to her only a few weeks ago, firmly believing them to be true. "You look ridiculous," she told herself.

As long as she could privately acknowledge how ridiculous she looked, Carol was confident that she blended in well with the other Alexandrian women, that her true nature was unknown to them. A wolf in sheep's clothing, she slipped the baby monitor into her pocket and began going through the house, opening all the doors and shades in the bedrooms. At night they kept their bedroom doors closed, a small measure that kept them safer during their hours of vulnerability. None of them were going to forget the aftermath of what happened when Patrick died during the night. Though they had tried to tell the others in Alexandria how important it was to keep their bedroom doors closed, Carol doubted that all of them did so. They presumed to know better than the new group who had arrived full of paranoia.

Pausing in each threshold, Carol looked into each of the rooms, missing her family. It had been eleven days since their departure…and had been Rick's birthday yesterday. Feeling anxious, Carol hoped that they returned soon. The had prepared a tight schedule, not lingering anywhere longer than absolutely necessary. If things were going well, they ought to be home sooner rather than later.

Worried for them, Carol moved on down the hallway to open the door to Daryl's bedroom. It was as plain as it had been they day they had arrived. Daryl hardly used his bedroom except to sleep on the nights he didn't take watch in the guard tower, or the nights he didn't sleep on the front porch, always vigilant. Feeling guilt in the pit of her stomach, she gave herself a moment to dwell on the secret she was keeping for Daryl, on the news that he didn't know how to share with Rick. She knew Daryl didn't want the fuss, that he felt their group had enough to worry about right now, but she was certain that Rick wasn't going to take the news well. As the feeling of sadness increased, Carol forced herself to go downstairs and start her day, knowing she couldn't mope for too long.

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear Judith through the baby monitor. Rolling her eyes at Judith's excellent timing, she delayed going straight to her, letting her wait for a few moments. Life had taught Judith to not only be quiet, but to be patient. Although lonely, wet and hungry, Judith made only soft sounds to get Carol's attention, grumbling to herself before finding her pacifier. Having some time up her sleeve, Carol cut a slice of home made bread and put it into the toaster, pleased to see that Maggie had been over that morning to turn on her coffee maker. Being the only one left in in the main house, Maggie and the others frequently made their way over to keep Carol company, not wanting her to be on her own. Every morning since the departure of Rick and the others, Maggie had slipped over and turned on the coffee maker, taking over the job Rick and Michonne normally covered. The gesture was kind, and not at all unexpected of their group. They looked after one another, during the good times as well as the bad.

While her toast cooked, Carol headed back upstairs and tended to Judith, who was patiently awaiting her. She was already sitting up, and as she often did upon waking from sleep, she seemed disappointed to see that it was Carol who had come for her. She peered past her into the hallway, hopefully looking Rick or Carl. Not taking Judith's preference to heart, Carol fetched a new diaper before leaning across the bed. She peppered little kisses across Judith's cheek as she took away her pacifier, her heart swelling with love when she smiled at her.

"Good morning, Judy Pie," she greeted her, using the name she had overheard Rick cooing under his breath. "Did you sleep well after waking me up all night?"

Grunting as an answer, Judith crawled towards the end of the bed and lay down, anticipating the routine she knew well. Letting Carol go about changing her diaper, she sucked on the neck of Rick's shirt before playfully reaching for her feet. Knowing she would only make a mess of any clean clothing, Carol left her in her pyjamas and settled for just putting some slippers on her feet, needing to keep her sufficiently warm. Without immunisations and a proper hospital to care for her, it was imperative that they keep Judith as healthy as possible, and while the weather was cold, that meant keeping her snug and warm. Screwing up her face, Judith grunted and made it clear that she was hungry, no longer content to quietly wait for this particular need to be addressed. As they went downstairs, Carol combed Judith's hair and put a clip in it, pulling it off her face and away from her mouth. Putting her into the highchair, Carol took a generous sip of her coffee and then told Judith to put Rick's shirt aside.

"Over here," she told her, patting the kitchen bench beside the high chair.

Judith whined, not wanting to give it up. They went through the same process every meal time, Judith forced to give up her security blanket while she ate, lest it become even dirtier than usual. Yesterday Carol had made the mistake of putting it in the washing machine, having believed that Judith was playing happily enough to not notice it missing. Judith noticed of course, and she looked at Carol pretty mistrustfully when she gave it back smelling clean and fresh. She felt terrible for that, knowing that on some level the shirt still smelled of Rick, that it brought Judith comfort during his unexplained absence. But there was no avoiding the necessity of washing it.

"Good girl," Carol thanked her as she finally gave up Rick's shirt. Putting it aside, Carol took her seat on one of the stools and began feeding her some oatmeal. Though she was capable of feeding herself, Judith was content to let Carol do the task, the only way that Carol could keep track of exactly how much she ate and how much ended up on the floor.

"Yes, Sam?" Carol called out, sensing the young boy's arrival before he even knocked.

"Hi, Carol," Sam replied tentatively, letting himself inside the front door. "How are y-"

"Close the door, Sam," she told him sternly, feeling the cold draught.

The front door closed loudly, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors as he came in. He hovered by their coats and looked into the kitchen, craning his neck to see Judith in her high chair.

"Hi, Carol," he smiled, his large blue eyes looking at her tentatively. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, keeping her voice cool and disapproving.

She didn't understand why Sam was constantly seeking her company, especially after what had happened the night of Deanna's party. How did threatening to tie him to a tree and let him be devoured by Walkers translate into becoming his best friend? Against the facade of nurturing Den Mother, Carol found herself irritated by Sam's constant presence, always on the back foot wondering if he was going to say something about the guns he had seen her taking. It had been weeks though, and he hadn't brought the subject up other than to promise that he hadn't told anyone.

"Have you got much work to do today?"

"Yes," she answered, spooning oatmeal into Judith's hungry mouth. "I always have work to do."

"Well, I thought….that maybe I could help you."

"For the third day in a row?" Carol asked, next muttering under her breath, "What a surprise."

There was a long pause, Sam still lingering by the coats. "Do you think Mr Grimes had a nice birthday yesterday?"

"No. He probably didn't." Looking at him, Carol forced herself to settle her tone down, to not be so abrasive. "You know you can call him Rick."

Sam shook his head vehemently, coming into the kitchen now. He smiled at Judith, reaching out and touching the butterfly clip in her hair. "No, he's a grown up."

"He asked you to," she reminded him. "So you're allowed to use his first name."

Shrugging, Sam pulled up a stool and leant his elbows on the kitchen bench. "Is lasagne his favourite? Is that why you made it yesterday?"

"Yes."

"But, he's not back…"

Raising her eyebrows, Carol looked at him. "I put it in the freezer." Considering him, she looked at her wrist watch. "It's seven thirty in the morning, Sam. Does your mother know you're here?"

"Yeah."

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"Made your bed? Brushed your teeth?"

"Ron has to make my bed today, because I made his yesterday…and I've brushed my teeth."

"And does your mother actually know you're here?"

Sam hesitated, seeing his lie had been detected. "No…she thinks I'm just out."

"I thought so," Carol pondered. If Jesse knew Sam was over here bothering Carol again, she would make him go elsewhere, do something else. But she felt a pang of guilt, reminding herself yet again to be kind to Sam. It wasn't his fault he was being so annoying. "Fine. You can help me with my work today."

"Thanks," he smiled, perking up a little. "What can I do first?"

She glanced down at Judith, noting that she was getting impatient and wanted to feed herself. "You can finish feeding Judith." This ought to be interesting.

Leaving Sam to battle with Judith's burgeoning independence, Carol set about eating her own breakfast, her toast having gone cold just the way she liked it. Thinking about her day ahead, she ran through the list of things she needed to get done, mentally checking off the things she had done yesterday. Just like the prison, it took people power to keep Alexandria running, with everyone having particular tasks and chores to complete day to day, secondary to their primary roles. With Rick and the others away, Carol and those remaining were picking up their slack.

If the weather stayed fine, she would clip Judith into her stroller and do the rounds of all the houses, collecting the food scraps to take to the compost heap that Bob Miller took care of. His arthritis had been particularly cruel to him this winter, and upon arriving Carl had taken over this particular chore, and Rick helped out with the gardens in between his patrols as Constable. Carol knew Bob and Natalie would have washing and ironing they would need help with, Natalie unable to do much since she had broken her arm last week.

"Carol," Sam began inquisitively. "Judith's mom died, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did."

"Why?"

Carol sighed, wishing he wouldn't ask. "Because we didn't have a doctor to help when Judith was born."

"Was she - Judith!" Sam groaned in frustration, a loud clattering getting Carol's attention.

Looking around, Carol suppressed a smile. In her eagerness, Judith had knocked the spoon from Sam's hand, and it along with the bowl had gone clattering to the floor. Automatically picking up the bowl, Carol fetched Judith a clean spoon and gave it all back to her.

"Let her finish the rest herself," Carol told Sam, passing him a dish cloth. "You can clean up the floor."

He did as he was asked without complaint, smiling as Judith gripped the spoon and scraped it through what was left of her oatmeal. Working painfully slowly, she raised small blobs to her mouth, pleased to be doing it herself.

"So…Judith's mom. Was she Mr Grimes' wife?" he asked, dropping a handful of oatmeal into the compost.

"Yes, she was. Her name was Lori."

"I bet he misses her a lot."

"Yes. He does."

There was silence now, making Carol look around. Sam was rinsing the dish cloth in the sink, looking at Judith over his shoulder.

"Does Judith miss her mom?"

"No, she doesn't," Carol replied bluntly. "She doesn't even know who Lori is."

"So, who is Judith's mom now?"

"No one…Mr Grimes is her mom, and her dad," she added as an after thought, realising she was sounding too harsh again.

Sam smiled, accepting this well enough. "I like Mr Grimes. When I'm older, I want to be like him."

"A police officer?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Sam looked at her incredulously, as though the answer was obvious. "Because he protects people. I want to protect my mom the way he protects everyone else."

Pausing, Carol noted a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Protect her from what?"

This time, Sam looked away as he answered. "You know, the dead people."

"Why won't you want to be like your dad? A doctor."

Sam shook his head vehemently. "I'm not smart enough."

Taking note of his tone of voice, Carol softened her own. "You are the only person who decides how smart you are, Sam. If you want to be a doctor, you can be."

He shrugged. "I know. Dad's already shown me how to do some things, like make a sling for someone's arm, or how to put on a bandage. But I want to be like Mr Grimes."

There was a short lapse in conversation, Carol gratefully taking the opportunity to eat her breakfast in peace. She watched Sam as he sat by Judith, appearing to supervise her slow method of feeding herself. Though she was frequently frustrated by Sam's constant company and chatter, Carol found herself taking pity on him.

"You know, Mr Grimes is going to teach you how to drive when he comes home. Your dad will probably help too."

Sam's face lit up. "I know," he smiled. "Mom told me. He's going to show Ron too. And Mikey and Enid."

"That's right."

"When he teaches the older kids to shoot guns, do you think he'll teach me?" Sam asked slowly, his large eyes looking at Carol side long. He appeared to be waiting on tenterhooks for her answer.

"That depends on what your mom and dad say."

He nodded. "Mom already said I can," he said quietly, looking as though he was sharing a delightful secret. "Dad already knows how…he's used one on dead people."

"That's good."

Sam took the spoon off Judith and helping her scrape down the sides of the bowl before giving it back to her. "Do you know how to use a gun?

"What do you think?"

"I think…yes. Who taught you?"

"Mr Grimes."

"Cool."

Pouring herself a second cup of coffee, which she deserved if she had to spend the day answering Sam's never ending questions, Carol shared something with him. "You know, I almost shot Mr Grimes once. By accident, of course."

"Really? How?"

"I was aiming for something close to him. I nearly shot him in the foot."

"Woah," he laughed. "I bet he didn't think it was very funny."

"Neither of us did," she said sternly, her tone wiping the laugh off his face.

Suitably chastised, Sam turned his attention back to Judith, passing her a sippy cup of water. "When Mr Grimes teaches us, will you come too?"

"Outside the walls?" Carol questioned, as though the idea frightened her. "No, I don't think so."

"Well, who will?"

"Probably Daryl."

"What about Sasha?"

"If Mr Grimes asks her to."

Sam smiled. "I like her."

"Sasha?" Carol questioned. Although she too liked Sasha, she knew her disposition of late had been anything other than friendly. In fact, Sasha was down right abrasive. Their group understood of course…but Sam? What was it about this kid that made him like people who were horrible to him?

"Yeah. I know she's mean and all, but she's really tough. She's been in the army too, like Mr Ford."

"Sasha hasn't been in the army," Carol explained, understanding how he would come to that conclusion. "Her army jacket belonged to her boyfriend, Bob."

Sam was quiet for a moment, swinging his legs underneath the stool. "Did Bob die too?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Pausing, Carol tried to think of an explanation. Telling Sam that Bob's leg had been hacked off and eaten by cannibals would only give him more nightmares than she had probably caused already. "He got bit, and then he died."

Seeing that Judith was done, she took her bowl and spoon away and then passed Sam a clean cloth, instructing him to clean her up. With both children occupied and laughing at each other, Carol set about stacking the dishes and making Judith a bottle of formula. As soon as Judith saw it coming she started smacking her hands on the highchair table, grinning toothily at Sam. As soon as he was done cleaning her up, Carol settled them both on the couch together, leaving Sam to keep an eye on Judith as she drank her bottle. Readying herself for the day, she packed a bag with diapers, wipes and spare clothing, fetching Judith a set of clothes at the same time.

"What are we doing first?"

"We're going to your house," Carol said sternly, dressing Judith in some warm leggings and a long sleeved dress. "You need a coat if you're going to help me."

"Oh, yeah. Can I push Judith's stroller?"

"No."

Putting a coat on her, Carol strapped Judith into her stroller and laid a blanket across her legs, making sure she was properly warm. Despite her initial refusal, Carol let Sam push the stroller until they got to his house. Lying to Jessie and assuring her that Sam wasn't being bothersome, Carol fussed over Judith and gave her a sippy cup, making sure her hat and coat were keeping her warm. They headed down the road to Natalie and Bob's house first, Carol watching Sam carefully as he pushed the stroller. She remembered a summer day from years ago, when she and Ed had been taking a walk with Sophia. Ed had been pushing the stroller, and the front wheel broke off as it went over a hole in the pavement. It had been so unexpected that the stroller had turned over, tipping two year old Sophia out onto the ground. Ed of course hadn't strapped her in, and knowing better than to question her husband, Carol hadn't checked.

That day Carol had cried more than Sophia, and it was one of the few occasions that Ed had hurt her without intending to. Since then, Carol had never quite relaxed when pushing a child in a stroller, and so she watched Sam with an eagle eye, double checking that Judith was secure in the straps. Natalie was pleased to see the three of them, Judith in particular. She enjoyed the few hours a day she spent with Judith, happily offering her services as a baby sitter to help pass the time during the day. But since she had broken her arm, Natalie and Bob had little to occupy themselves with except each other.

"This young lady needs to eat," Bob declared instantly, taking Judith from her stroller and carrying her off to the kitchen. "Carol? Can I make her a chocolate milk shake?"

Smiling, Carol knew what Rick's answer would have been. At eight o'clock in the morning, the last thing Judith's new teeth needed was the sugary goodness of chocolate milk. Knowing Rick would be horrified with her, Carol answered, "Sure, that would be lovely." She didn't expect that Judith would drink more than a sip anyway…she wasn't accustomed to sweet tastes.

"And what about you, Sam?" Bob offered, taking a bottle of chocolate syrup from the pantry. "Would you like some?"

"Sam is working today," Carol answered on his behalf. If he wanted to hang around her all day, he wasn't drinking chocolate milk on her time. "Thank you, Bob, but he hasn't got the time."

"Working?" Bob said in horror. "Are you being punished for something?" he asked Sam.

"No," he smiled sweetly, melting Bob's heart. "I just wanted to help Carol."

"Oh, Carol. Let the young man have some chocolate milk."

Unable to argue with Bob, Carol gave a polite smile and nodded. Leaving Bob to amuse Judith and Sam, Carol ushered Natalie upstairs and got to work, helping her with the chores she couldn't quite get done with one hand. God forbid Bob pick up a feather duster.

"Do you need help taking a shower?" she asked. Bustling around in the bedroom, she straightened the nightstand and then started making the bed.

"Oh, no thank you, dear," Natalie replied from the en suite. She had been waiting for Carol to come around, needing help to squeeze the toothpaste from the tube. For some reason, she hadn't thought to ask Bob, getting into the habit of simply waiting for her helper. "I took a bath last night."

"Don't be taking a bath while you're home alone," she reminded her. Natalie's broken arm was the result of trying to get out of the tub unassisted, too impatient to wait for Bob to come and help her.

"I won't."

"And you and Bob are still sharing the bedroom?"

"Oh, yes, we are," Natalie replied, sounding a little chastised. Finished up in the en suite, she returned to the bedroom, smoothing down the corners of the bedspread. "I'm sorry. I know that-"

"Don't apologise, Natalie," Carol told her.

Natalie nodded. "I know that…that one of us could pass on in our sleep, and that we might…hurt the other."

"Yes," Carol agreed.

With Natalie and Bob both of significant age, and Bob's ill health, the possibility that one of them might pass in their sleep, reanimate and then bite the other, was significant. Natalie and Bob had been told long ago that they should consider sleeping in separate rooms for their own safety, but they wouldn't hear of it.

"But it's just…Robert and I have been married for fifty six years," Natalie said proudly. "If one of us were to pass away and then…then that's the Lord's will done."

"Yes," Carol replied automatically, squashing down the loud declaration she wanted to make about the Lord and his will.

"We are following your other recommendations, though," Natalie hastened to assure her. "We always close our bedroom door at night. We don't leave any lights on either. And look, Carol."

Looking round, Carol smiled as she saw the baseball bat Natalie produced from under Bob's side of the bed.

"Looks like you're covered."

"Yes," Natalie agreed, putting it away. "You know…not everyone else closes their bedroom doors at night. Some people around here have hearing difficulties, I think."

"I think so too," she agreed, enjoying the tone of gossip in Natalie's voice.

"I shudder to think of what might happen if one of them were to pass on in their sleep, while all the doors were open. You know Sturgess who lives in the shared house? He has epilepsy."

"Does he?" Carol enquired, although she already knew this.

"Oh yes…they don't close their doors in that house."

"I'll have to have a talk with them," Carol smiled politely. If she were being completely honest, she didn't give a crap about the people in the shared house. If they were too stupid to listen to Rick and the others, then they deserved to be eaten alive in their beds if one of them died and returned.

"Now, I know the floors are a little untidy," Natalie commented, slowly following as Carol took the laundry basket down stairs. "But don't fuss. Mikey is coming over to vacuum. He's been grounded for talking back, so Pauline is sending him to clean the floors for me."

"Well that's a relief," Carol nodded, glancing at the floors. There was hardly a speck of dust on the hardwood, but Natalie liked to keep a clean house, just like Carol did.

"When Bob and I took our walk yesterday, we saw Erin and Enid out the front of their house. They were painting each other's nails, I think. It was lovely to see Enid enjoying herself, she's usually got such an awful scowl on her face, and she's so pretty. I suppose I mustn't judge, I don't know the things she's seen…and at such a young age too…"

Carol began to tune out to Natalie's banter, knowing that if she paid attention much longer she just might combust. It was exhausting, this role in Alexandria. It took all her might not to tell people what she really thought, to keep smiling and nodding as though everything was fine. Even her old life with Ed had been easier to navigate day in and day out. She supposed it was because back then she hadn't seen the other side, she hadn't known who she really was. These days, Carol knew…if something needed to be said or done, she took care of it. Now though, in Alexandria she couldn't. Making herself invisible was exhausting, and she longed for the occasion when she could show her true colours.

If only they knew the things she had done.

As she expected, Judith hadn't liked the chocolate milk, but was cheerfully working her new teeth into the rusk stick Carol had packed for her. Setting Sam to work the moment he finished his chocolate milk, she set up the ironing board and showed him how to iron handkerchiefs, crossing her fingers that she didn't return him to Jessie covered in burns. She helped Natalie finish tidying the kitchen after breakfast and then started some laundry. A few hours later, when Sam was bored and Judith was getting grumpy, Carol departed, satisfied that Natalie and Bob had something easy to heat up for their evening meal. Collecting the bucket from the quaint vegetable garden behind Bob's house, she rugged Judith up again and put her back into the stroller.

Testing Sam's commitment, she made him carry the bucket as they went from house to house, collecting food scraps that were kept for the compost bin. He turned his nose up at each deposit made, not enjoying the smell or texture of the contents he was collecting. Soon enough Judith fell asleep, her sippy cup falling into her lap as her eyes closed. Glad that the air was still despite the coolness, Carol persevered onward, trying to keep her chats with each resident as short and sweet as she could manage.

"Wait," Carol started, stopping Sam as he went to dump some compost into their bucket.

Sighing, she looked at the small container that belonged to Shelley's household. Frustration bloomed inside her…this was the second time Shelley had put lemon peelings into her compost bin, even though both Carol and Carl had asked her not to. Herschel had preferred to keep citrus peelings out of the compost heap at the prison, and Rick carried on this preference. Standing there for a moment, Carol considered what she should do. She knew what the old her would have done…she would have picked out every last lemon peel and dumped them on Shelley's front porch, repeating the process until the woman finally got the hint.

Shaking her head to herself, she impatiently picked out the peelings. "Was Shelley inside?"

"No. What are you going to do?"

"Nothing," Carol smiled, depositing the peelings into the empty container that had held Judith's lunch. "I'll just ask her again not to put them in."

Continuing on, they completed their rounds of all the houses, Carol very much looking forward to when Carl would resume this task upon his return. As they took the long route home, and addition of perhaps sixty seconds to their walk, they heard a whistle as they strolled past the solar panels. Knowing where it had come from, Carol shielded her eyes against the sun as she looked up at the guard tower. Sasha stood at one of the open windows, signalling for Carol's attention.

"Sam…Sasha's waving at you."

Sam smiled in delight, looking up and raising his hand to Sasha. Having actually been waving to Carol, Sasha looked annoyed before quickly fixing a smile on her face. Waving again, she got Carol's attention and then tapped her lips, indicating that she wanted to talk. Carol nodded and then held up five fingers, requesting some time.

"Come on, Sam, let's get you home."

Heading back the way they had come, they deposited the bucket of food scraps into the compost bin and finished the bulk of that day's work. She would do a quick sweep and mop of the downstairs once she and Judith where home and then perhaps fuss over Maggie and the others. Following that, she and Judith would spend the day at their leisure. Returning Sam home, she told him to get his mother for her. Waiting patiently, she tucked the blanket around Judith's lap, glad that she was still sleeping peacefully.

"Hey, Carol," Jessie smiled, crossing the front porch and meeting her on the sidewalk. "Thanks for putting up with Sam. He and Ron are driving each other crazy."

"It's no trouble. I wonder if I could burden you with Judith for a few minutes? I need to take Sasha some lunch…she's in the watch tower."

"Of course," she readily agreed, taking the front wheels of the stroller and helping Carol carry her up the steps. "Put her down here by the fire. It's so cold today."

"Thanks, Jessie. Her water and some snacks are in the basket underneath. She shouldn't wake up though."

"She'll be fine," Jessie cheerfully waved her off. "Take as long as you need."

Departing without further fuss, Carol headed to the second house and grabbed a granola bar and bottle of water from the pantry, knowing Sasha's preferences. As she passed Eric's house, she stopped only to open the door and shout that she expected him for dinner at six o'clock, quickly continuing on to the watch tower.

"What is it, Sasha?" she asked, climbing the scaffolding that would grant her access without having to leave the walls.

"Got more ironing to do?" Sasha joked, cracking a rare smile.

"Well aren't you in a good mood today," Carol commented, passing her the granola bar and water. "So what's the problem?"

Handing her the binoculars, Sasha pointed east. "See the yellow flag?"

"The wind speed?"

"Yes. On the ground to the right…a Walker in a blue coat."

Looking through the eye piece, Carol found the dead Walker she was looking for. "Yes?"

"Look at the forehead."

"Another W?" she asked, not needing to look.

"Yeah, but that's not all…look at the neck."

Carol sighed, trying to focus the binoculars. "I can't see it well enough."

"Noah noticed it this morning. When we swapped he went out and looked at it properly. The throat is slashed…but no bites."

"Oh," she said darkly, realising what Sasha was getting at. "So…these people aren't carving up Walkers…they're killing living people, and then carving them up."

"Or carving them up, then killing them."

Lowering the binoculars, Carol took pause, thinking hard. "Rick and the others will be back soon. They'll be able to make something of this."

"Make something of this?" Sasha scoffed. "Rick will lose his shit when we tell him."

"And rightly so."

"Well we've got to be careful about the way in which he loses his shit. These people already look at us like we're crazy."

"Yes," Carol agreed.

"If there are people murdering people just for kicks, Rick will want everyone armed inside the walls. Deanna won't go for that."

"I know."

"We need-"

"I know," she cut Sasha off. "It's covered."

Sasha frowned at this. "You've got guns?"

"Of course we have."

"Where?"

"Close by."

Accepting this, Sasha slowly nodded. "Alright."

"What we really need," Carol sighed. "Is a key to the armoury…so that if something does happen, we can go straight there."

"Olivia has the only one."

"I know." Looking at the floor, Carol bent down and started collecting the wrappers and empty water bottles that had been left there by the last watch shift. "Let me take care of it."

"There's more," Sasha continued grimly. "They used to be mainly coming from this direction, the ones with the W." As she spoke, she indicated to the side of Alexandria where they were now. "Which was great, because we could see them…but now they seem to be coming on all sides."

"You still going out shooting them? Lone wolf style?"

"Don't lecture me."

"I'm not," she said plainly. "I'm asking."

Sasha nodded. "Yes, I am. I can't tell where they're coming from now."

"How many?"

"In total? Thirteen W's this week…and that's just my count."

Rubbing her forehead wearily, Carol thanked Sasha and then departed, wanting to get back to Judith before she awoke. As she headed back towards Jessie's house, she looked down at the gates, which after eleven days still had not opened to admit their returning group members. They had originally planned on a timeline of eleven or twelve days, and if things were going according to schedule they would be back any day now. Barely halfway up the front steps Carol could hear Judith crying, and she gave a soft sigh of frustration before mentally scolding her impatience. It wasn't the little girl's fault that she had kept Carol up last night…after all, she was the one suffering. Recognising her cries as those of pain, Carol hastened inside without knocking.

"Here she is," Jessie cooed to Judith, turning around and pointing to Carol. Judith's tear stained cheeks were flushed pink, saliva covering her chin as Jessie mopped it up with a Kleenex. "Sorry Carol…she woke up shortly after you left. I think her gums are hurting."

"I think so too," she nodded grimly, feeling loved when Judith reached out for her. It was always a nice feeling to be wanted by her, particularly when she so often favoured Rick and Carl…or Beth. Taking her, she brought Judith to her chest and held her close, loving the way she put her head against her shoulder. She was a very cuddly baby, whereas Sophia hadn't been. "I'd better get this little girl home, she'll be needing some Tylenol."

"Pete's just gone to get you some more Orajel," Jessie told her, helping her carry the stroller back down to the pavement. "He saw that you're almost out."

Carol smiled, not sure of why Pete's thoughtfulness aggravated her. "Well that's very kind of him."

"I'll send Sam over to drop it off, but don't worry, I'll make sure he comes home this time."

Thanking Jessie again, Carol departed for home, glad that although Sam was driving her nuts, she wouldn't have to make small talk with Pete. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but something about him just rubbed her up the wrong way, his charming smile always seeming a little too self assured. Rick had told her about the awkward conversation he and Pete had about Judith upon their arrival, Pete having wanted to determine Judith's blood type for his records. It had been most awkward for Rick to explain that he didn't know, particularly given his determination to never acknowledge the murky circumstances of her conception.

Carrying the stroller up the front steps with only one hand, Carol kissed Judith on the cheek as they headed inside, pleased to see Maggie was there. It wasn't unusual for them to come and go from both houses, to make themselves comfortable or eat the food from the fridges, although it was usually Eugene who was thieving food. Aside from the practicalities of sleeping arrangements, their large group saw no differences between the two houses. Gabriel was the only exception, having taken up residence in the make shift church…not that this troubled them.

"Look Judy, it's Maggie," Carol sang.

Completely disinterested, Judith didn't even lift her head off Carol's shoulder, instead choosing to give a long, shuddering sob of discontent. Grumbling, she pressed her fists against her mouth to relieve the discomfort, which Carol only suspected was making it worse.

"I heard her crying, poor little thing," Maggie commiserated, dangling a tea bag in a mug before putting it in the compost. "Tea?"

"Coffee, please."

"With a drop of whiskey?" Maggie joked, getting Carol's preferred mug from the cupboard.

Chuckling, Carol kissed Judith on the forehead and headed for the medicine cabinet. Filling the syringe to the correct dosage, she gave Judith a little Tylenol, making sure she got it between her gum and cheek where it would be harder for her to spit out. Not liking the sweet taste, Judith spluttered unhappily, pulling a myriad of grumpy faces until Carol gave her some water.

"Can I?" Maggie asked, indicating to Judith.

"I think that's a good idea," she chuckled, seeing the cross look Judith was giving her. Handing her over, she took one of the teething toys from the refrigerator and passed it to her. "Why aren't you at Deanna's?"

"Oh, no reason," Maggie shrugged nonchalantly, taking a seat at the island bench and settling Judith into her lap. Without another word, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a blue and white stick, casually placing it onto the bench for Carol to see.

Her curiosity aroused, Carol peered at the plastic stick, her heart leaping when she realised what it was. She looked back up at Maggie, her realisation confirmed by her smile. "You're pregnant?"

Pressing her lips together, Maggie beamed as she nodded silently.

"You're pregnant…but you're not saying it out loud, so that technically Glenn is the first you tell."

Maggie tapped the end of her nose. "Got it in one."

Barely managing to contain her excitement, Maggie looked at her with such sheer happiness that she felt her heart welling up. Putting her coffee down, Carol swept around the bench and engulfed Maggie in her arms, trying not to squash Judith.

"I just couldn't keep it to myself," Maggie explained in delight. "And if I couldn't tell Glenn first, then it had to be you."

"Mum's the word," she promised, holding her tightly. "Oh Maggie…they'd be so happy for you."

"I know," she agreed, knowing who she referred to. When they pulled apart, Carol was glad to see a smile on Maggie's face as she talked about her late family. "Can you imagine Daddy and Beth, jumping up and down making fools of themselves?"

"I can," Carol nodded, picking up Judith's toy when she dropped it. "And I can imagine the look on Glenn's face when you tell him. You make sure he's sitting down, alright?"

"I will."

"Do you know how far along you are?" she asked next, looking at the pregnancy test again before passing it back.

"Not really," she shrugged, catching Judith's teething toy when it was dropped. "I've already been to see Pete for the test, but for the rest of it I'll wait for Glenn to come home."

"After he picks himself up off the floor, I'm sure he'll be thrilled. Hello, Sam," Carol called out, hearing his footsteps on the porch.

Sam strolled right on in, pleased to be back again so soon. "Hi Maggie," he smiled sweetly before turning to Carol. "My dad asked me to bring you this."

"Thank you," she said, holding her hand out for the tube of Orajel.

"Can give it to her?"

Just as Carol was about to refuse him, Maggie cut her off, having significantly more patience. "That's kind of you, Sam. You'll need to wash your hands first, with soap."

Stifling the sigh of exasperation she wanted to emit, Carol just looked at Maggie, amused by the knowing look she got in return. Supervising, Maggie helped Sam open the tube and apply a little of the gel to Judith's gum. When he was finished, he hovered and talked to Judith before Maggie prompted him to wash his hands again. Drying his hands on a kitchen towel he tried to hover inconspicuously, but Carol was having none of it.

"Thanks for stopping by, Sam," she said, looking at him pointedly. "Tell your dad I said thanks."

Clearly disappointed, he did not leave immediately, drawing out his departure as long as he could. When he finally left, Maggie laughed at the expression on Carol's face, not understanding.

"Why does he idolise you so much?"

Carol just sighed, taking a large sip of her coffee and wishing Maggie had actually put some whiskey in there. "I don't know, but whatever it is, I wish he'd get over it."

"Oh I think he's just perceptive," Maggie teased. "Maybe he sees something in you…something he likes."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Carol just poured herself another cup of coffee before getting on with her day. Maggie put Judith down to finish her nap and then went home, giving Carol the time to potter around and clean the house that didn't need cleaning. She was simply passing the time, impatient for the day that the rest of her family rocked up at the gates.

* * *

A/N I hoped you enjoyed checking in with Carol :-)


	30. Chapter 30

Enjoying the sounds of chatter coming from the living room, Carrie stood at the kitchen bench with a knife in hand, carefully slicing the last cucumber they had taken from the prison. It had been two days since they had left Rock Hill, two days of frustrating detours and a removal truck that kept over heating, and the group were almost at their wits end. Having pushed themselves (and the removal truck) as much as they could that day, they had stopped for the night about an hour before sundown, quickly finding a suitable house and clearing it. While the others arranged the bedding and discussed the certainty of reaching Franklin the following morning, Carrie volunteered to prepare their meal. Abraham had rationed the ingredients, and upon seeing the last cucumber from the prison, crackers and jar of peanut butter, Carrie knew she had to bargain for a little more. There was a certain amount of high regard for those of the group who could throw together a decent meal with the rations, and it had become a competition of sorts. Reminding him that it had been her idea that had saved them from the herd of Walkers, Carrie had managed to negotiate for a packet of instant mashed potato and a jar of Marshmallow Fluff. Promising to give him the most of the sweet spread, Carrie had made her case.

Though they were getting closer and closer to Alexandria, Carrie knew the group had cabin fever, so she suspected the delightfulness of Marshmallow Fluff would be well received. As soon as the fuss about the herd had died down, the group of twelve had nothing to entertain themselves with during the long hours of travel, and they were all feeling the pressure of wanting to get home. Since departing the prison they had been driving non-stop for five days, and with none of the towns having much worth scavenging aside from gas, there was little to break the monotony of their routine. Time passed frustratingly slowly, the hours blending in to one another and leaving everyone tired and frustrated. Even Aaron, who was normally so even tempered, had exchanged a few short words with Nicholas, the two men arguing over something when the group had stopped to make camp the night before.

Despite how close they were to Franklin, tensions were high, and there wasn't one moment that they didn't have a team on watch. At Rick's request, they had increased their numbers from two people to three, needing to be extra sure that whenever they stopped to sleep, they were going to be safe. The map they had found the other day was in the back of everyone's mind, each of them worried about coming across another of these supply runner groups. If it came down to a stand off, Carrie suspected that Rick wouldn't want to risk a fight of any kind, that nothing they had was worth their lives to protect. Nevertheless, they weren't giving it away either.

Having spent much time watching the Discovery Channel, Nicholas had a thorough knowledge of America's doomsday prepper community. About a three hour drive away was a large property and underground bunker that had been featured on the channel. If they were lucky, it would be an untouched goldmine of food, medicine and weapons. If they were unlucky, they'd all be killed by the nutcase who lived there. Pending how well the removal truck's radiator fared tomorrow, they ought to arrive at the bunker around mid-morning, and they were each looking forward to the possibility of getting reprieve from their routine.

Feeling a change in the air, Carrie looked up in anticipation, not disappointed to see what had caught her attention. Rick was there, hovering in the kitchen doorway as though he wasn't sure whether he was coming or going. Like everyone else he was tired and impatient, but something about his stance made him look completely at ease. Leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pocket, he seemed mildly interested in what she was doing, a small smile appearing in the corner of his mouth when he noticed the jar of Marshmallow Fluff. He looked back at her now, and although his expression was perfectly platonic, she suspected why he had come.

Reflecting on the last two days, Carrie knew that she was more than ready to put her past behind her. Emotionally exhausted by the weight that found itself upon her shoulders, she was trying to put all thoughts of Granger and the others out of her head, to not let them continue torturing her. When she had believed Granger to be dead, she and Shannon had returned home with a weight off their shoulders, and a week later their whole group set off for Terminus. She hadn't given those men much thought until it came time to tell Rick about them, but even then she hadn't dwelled. Perhaps some would say that she should have thought about them more, that she should have worked through what had happened rather than ignored it…but at the time she had done what was necessary. With a group of six of them on foot towards Terminus, there wasn't time.

This time around, it was harder to not dwell, to not think about what she had done to protect her group. But it wasn't because she was upset, it wasn't because he had unexpectedly turned up in her life again….it was Rick. She couldn't blame him for his reactions yesterday, for his horror at what she had been willing to do to protect both of them. While he understood what it took to protect a group, he didn't understand what it meant to have no one watching your back, to have nothing to protect yourself with except what you could offer with your own body.

They had argued about it, and rightfully so. Getting everything out, they had cleared the air, and although they'd reached an understanding of some kind, things weren't quite what they were before. She was still coming around to the idea that she had a group who would protect her, that there was someone watching her back, but there was something she knew for certain. No matter what had happened to her in the past, Carrie knew that she trusted Rick implicitly, despite the fact that his swift decision to kill the others had frightened her. He had never raised a hand to her in violence, he'd never sought to take advantage of her in anyway….and she couldn't anticipate that he ever would.

Being coerced into sex in the past only made her that much more resolved in the choices she made now. Where others had manhandled and groped her, Rick tentatively approached, begging for her consent and waiting for it. Although the smaller part of her mind continued to wonder if there was something wrong with her, Carrie felt at ease with him, comfortable to let him explore her body while she willingly offered it to him. She trusted Rick, confident that his hands would only ever reach for her with consent, and despite everything, she wanted them to. She hadn't been untruthful when she told him yesterday that nothing had changed for her, that she still wanted him. But wanting him to touch her only made it that much more frustrating when he wouldn't.

 _When they left Rock Hill on Thursday morning, Rick had spent the day sleeping in the back of the car, unlike Carrie who hadn't found much rest at all. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts, a million different worries taunting her as she listened to Glenn's preferred music, Daft Punk. Whether it was the music (albeit, played softly), or her busy mind, she was still exhausted when the group had stopped for the night, and she had been the first to unroll her sleeping bag and call it a night. Despite being well rested, Rick had not been allowed to take watch, the others wanting him to rest again before they kept pushing on the following morning. So with a blanket around his shoulders, Rick had perched himself at the bay window and helped keep watch anyway, Carl asleep on the floor beside him._

 _It was comforting to lay in the darkness and know that he was there, that even though she couldn't see his eyes, she could feel him watching her. His presence was comforting, a reassurance that after everything that had happened, he was still there with her. In the few minutes before she fell asleep the first night, Carrie couldn't help but dwell on how much she missed him, and how stupid that notion was. He wasn't hers to miss…he wasn't hers in any real sense of the word._

 _Friday morning, only a day after it all happened, she slept in late. While she had roused when Daryl came around, using his boots to gruffly nudge everyone, Carrie had taken a risk and ignored him. Somewhat confident that he wouldn't follow through on his threat to dump a bucket of their precious drinking water on her head, she had just snuggled further into her sleeping bag and closed her eyes, begging for another five minutes of rest._

 _It was Rick who had woken her next, his voice softly rousing her from sleep. It was pleasant to be awoken by him as opposed to Daryl, and it reminded her of the previous morning when she had awoken with his arms around her waist. She immediately sat up with an apology, but Rick's kind reassurances only made her feel worse. He had quickly left, still giving her space, and her heart swelled when she saw what he had left behind for her. Without seeking her gratitude or favour in return, Rick had left a travel mug on the floor beside her, and a quick inspection told her that it was tea. The thoughtfulness of this simple act of service was enhanced by the fact that he had left the tea bag in…he knew how she liked it._

 _Thinking on this some more, Carrie knew that things between them weren't quite as ruined as she had first thought. Ever since their parting conversation at the gas station, Rick had been frustratingly distant and annoyingly polite. She hadn't even caught him looking at her with more than friendly politeness, and she missed the moments when his eyes raked over her, the way his jaw flexed as he tried not to look embarrassed when caught. The part of her psyche with low self-esteem told her that he was disgusted by her now, that what she had done to protect herself against Granger's group repulsed him. But even that didn't make sense. She told him about that part of her life days ago, and while he'd been sympathetic to what she went through, he hadn't been disgusted by her. On the other hand though, it hadn't exactly been thrown in his face the way it had been now._

 _The uneasiness she felt was becoming difficult to comprehend, and the need to get him alone for a little while only grew. The thought that it was Grander causing the distance between she and Rick infuriated her. She'd decided long ago that those men and their actions were not going to define her. What she had told Rick was true…nothing had changed for her, even though she found herself feeling nervous and unsure of where the circumstances had left them. Even setting aside what had happened with Granger, she and Rick were two very different people, and clearly they had differing opinions about the way in which the world worked these days._

 _Logic told her that she should steer clear of initiating anything more with him, that she should let time pass before even thinking about inviting someone to be with her. But of course, this world didn't allow for much introspection. Things progressed at such a different pace now…it had been a year and a half since the world had fallen apart, but it felt like much longer. By the same token, it had been a little more than a day since she and Rick had faced Granger, since they had vehemently fought with one another as they tried to reach a mutual understanding. While those events were still fresh in her mind, they also felt like they had happened months ago. Looking at the tea he had made her the first morning after, Carrie wanted so badly to go to him, to just say something to break the ice, but she never got the opportunity._

 _The longer it went on, the more it felt like Granger was breathing down her neck, that he was still controlling her even in death. Perhaps that had been what spurred her on to take what she wanted, that the thought of him still having power over her actually gave her the confidence to do something about it. When Saturday morning came, Carrie had taken a deep breath before joining the group in the kitchen where breakfast was being prepared. There was a flurry of activity and laughter, everyone crowded around while Tobin tried flipping the pancakes he was cooking over their camping stove. Taking note that there were three people on watch, she made sure Carl was sufficiently occupied before catching Rick's eye._

 _She didn't need to do much more than jerk her head out to the hallway, indicating that she wanted to speak to him. When he gave her a short nod, she quietly excused herself from the kitchen, grateful that no one seemed to notice her leave. Without waiting for Rick, she slipped down the hallway of the large house and exited through the back door, zipping up her jacket as she stood on the back porch. Nervously awaiting him, she was pleased to see that the only person keeping watch on the rear of the property was Daryl. Sitting on the rear fence with his back to her, he glanced over his shoulder and gave her a nod of acknowledgement before turning back around._

 _Rick followed her less than a minute later, stepping outside and looking at her cautiously. "Everything alright?" he asked in concern. Zipping up his jacket, the brown corduroy one he had taken from his cell at the prison, he looked at her critically._

 _"Yeah," she started nervously, a part of her scared that he might reject her, that he had been lying when he told her that he still wanted her._

 _There was a short, but awkward pause, one that made her long for the day they didn't occur. She had intended to talk to him, but at the last minute everything she wanted to say vanished from her head, despite how many times she had mentally rehearsed it over the last two days. Not knowing what else to do now, she paused long enough to glance at Daryl, to make sure he wasn't watching them. Making her intentions quite clear, she stepped towards Rick and placed her hands on his shoulders. Knowing she'd have to be the one to initiate it, she kissed him softly, the simple contact of their lips helping to satisfy the ache she felt in the base of her throat. He kissed her back, but it wasn't with the enthusiasm to which she had become accustomed to receiving. Despite her insecurities, she knew better than to think he didn't want to…but it was still different to before._

 _Two days ago they had been hot and heavy for each other, making out with the enthusiasm of teenagers too afraid to go much past second base. Since then things had obviously changed, and Rick was trying to be cautious with her, to take it slowly. Frustrated with him, she kissed him harder, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth when he was reluctant to open his mouth for her. She just wanted him to kiss her properly, to put his hands on her the way he had before. It didn't help that his lips tasted like maple syrup from the pancakes, that she could feel the scruff of his beard beneath her fingers. She wanted more, and he wasn't giving an inch._

 _Annoyed with him, she broke their kiss and pulled away just a little. Making her discontent clear, she arched her eyebrow at him expectantly. "I thought you said you wanted this," she reminded him, getting straight to the point._

 _"I do."_

 _His reply was swift, no doubt hoping to reassure her, but the cautious way he touched the top of her arms was anything but. Grabbing his hands, she moved them down to her waist, breathing a sigh of relief as she pressed them there. Even through her jacket the feeling of his touch was just enough._

 _"Then what's the problem?" she asked bluntly._

 _Perhaps she didn't quite give him enough credit, because he seemed to get the hint now. Doing as requested, he pulled her close and kissed her properly now. One hand held her firmly about the waist while the other drifted up to her neck, his fingers tangling into the long hair she hated so much. His touch was still more cautious than she would have liked, but it was enough to satiate the need she felt, to reassure her of where they stood. Sighing amorously, she draped her arms around his neck and let herself take in everything he had to give. Slow and sensual, they took their time with one another, simply enjoying the reunion._

 _Like most good things these days, it couldn't last long, and it was with great reluctance that they stopped. But despite needing to get back to the group, despite the possibility of someone seeing them, Rick didn't pull away, holding her just a little longer. She closed her eyes as he stroked his hand over her hair, his forehead coming to rest against hers._

 _"Thank you," she muttered, feeling his breath against her lips._

 _"Thank you?"_

 _Nodding, she pressed her lips to his once more, taking what she could. "I needed that."_

 _Hearing the familiar sound of Carl on his crutches, Rick quickly pulled away and stepped back, both of them adjusting their postures and expression to one of platonic chit chat. Glancing through the window at Carl, Rick flexed his jaw before looking back at her._

 _"Me too."_

That had only been that morning, and despite their time together being cut short by Carl, Carrie felt the weight lifting off her shoulders. If things weren't perfectly clear now then they never would be, but it took only a lingering glance from Rick to finally reassure her. Highly aware of Rick's presence in the doorway, Carrie kept her eyes downcast as she waited for him to do something, hoping that he would take advantage of the small slither of privacy they had right now. Everyone else was either on watch or in the living room, playing yet another game of cards to try and pass the time.

Their kiss that morning had sat with her for the entire day, the thought of his touch occupying her thoughts through the many hours of driving. At the time it had been enough to satiate her, but not for long…she still wanted to feel his hands on her body, to slip her own under his clothes as well. She wondered when this feeling would stop, when it would have been enough. With just a few kisses, the attraction they felt for one another was back in full force, reminding her of exactly what they felt the night they led the herd away, of what they had been leading up to as she sat astride his lap.

Carefully distributing the cucumber amongst the makeshift plates, she tried not to smile as Rick finally made a move. Finished with the cucumber and turning her attention to the box of crackers, she pretended to be indifferent when he entered the kitchen. Spreading generous amounts of peanut butter on each cracker, she watched from the corner of her eye as he rounded the island bench and came to stand beside her, hovering. Giving pause, she waited with bated breath, wondering how long he'd make her wait.

Placing one hand on her shoulder, he let it linger there for a few moments before he spoke. "Do you need any help?"

She exhaled slowly, enjoying his touch, no matter how innocent. "Sure," she nodded, gesturing to the pot of water on the camping stove that was beginning to boil. "You can make the potato."

"Alright."

Carrie waited for him to move away, for the weight of his hand to disappear from her shoulder, but to her pleasant surprise he stayed. Forgoing his offer to help, Rick lingered just as she hoped he would. Though she waited patiently, there was only so long she could hold out, and after a long moment she turned and looked at him expectantly. Seeing her expression, he smiled before gently kissing her. There were no qualms about what he had come there for, and she was grateful for that. This was what she wanted, to pick up where they had left off, to not let what happened get in the way of a good thing.

"Carl's in the living room," she said softly, feeling as though she needed to acknowledge that.

"He's upstairs."

Reassured by this, she closed her eyes as she leant back again, their lips finding each other once more. It was sweet and tender, and though she desperately wanted to deepen it, to make him kiss her for all she was worth, she let him chose the pace. Finding a middle ground, she clumsily reached her hand around, trying not to smile when she accidentally brushed it against the front of his thigh. Finding his hand, she brought it around to her front and slipped it underneath her shirt. At her encouragement, Rick happily obliged, and so he spread his fingers out and moved his hand across her skin.

Settling into his embrace with a long sigh, she enjoyed the sensations he elicited, the touch she had longed for. As his lips moved from hers and down to her neck, she acknowledged the fact that the previous day it had been Granger holding her almost exactly like this. But this understanding didn't perturb her…in fact, it was empowering. Rick touched her because she asked him to, because she was just short of begging him. Sighing again, she exalted in the new phase of her life that had begun the day he picked her up from the side of the road…not even Granger was going to ruin that.

Feeling Rick jolt a little, she cracked a smile when she realised what had caused it. His hand moved towards the centre of her stomach, his fingers zoning in on her navel and making her shiver. Biting her bottom lip, she waited for his reaction, feeling his breath on her neck as he chuckled.

"You have your navel pierced?"

She nodded. "Took you long enough to notice it."

Lifting his head off her shoulder, he stepped to her side and looked down at her, pulling her tank top up a little. Amused, she watched as his eyes honed in on the plain metal bar, his fingers brushing over it again.

"Someone from my first group did it for me," she explained. "We were bored."

Smiling at her, he shook his head to himself before pressing another light kiss to her lips. "I wouldn't have picked you for having your navel pierced."

Hesitating, Carrie wondered if she should tell him what else she had…if she had her way he'd see it soon enough anyway. "Would you have picked me for having a tattoo?"

Kissing her cheek Rick raised his head and looked at her doubtfully. When he realised she was serious, his eyes darted down at her body as though it would suddenly reveal itself to him. "Where?"

"You can't see it now."

"A tattoo?" he said very slowly, as if he was unsure he had heard correctly.

She nodded, pleased by his reaction. "That's what happens when a sixteen year old has a credit card."

Just as he started to reply to this, approaching footsteps made him pull away from her. He turned away and busied himself with the packet of instant mashed potato, quickly skim reading the instructions as their intruder made themselves known. Dipping the knife into the peanut butter, Carrie withheld a groan of annoyance, seeing that it was Aidan who was interrupting them.

"Hey, Ivy League," he greeted her with a charming smile. "Do you need any help?"

Rick answered before she could. "Yeah. Carl's in the bathroom cleanin' up. Would you tell him food's nearly ready?"

Aidan almost managed to hide a flash of annoyance, but he just gave another charming smile and nodded. "Sure thing," he told Rick. Before he left the two of them exchanged a brief glance, Aidan's eyes flicking over to Carrie before he departed to find Carl.

"What was that?" Carrie teased, getting the feeling Rick had just told Aidan to piss off.

"Nothing," he denied, stirring hot water into the instant potato. There was a long pause, Rick stirring the mixture with more force than necessary. "Why is you calling you Ivy League?"

"Because I went to Dartmouth."

"Yeah, but why is he making fun of that?"

She sighed. "Because I can name all the Presidents in chronological order."

Rick stopped, looking at her in surprise. "Really?"

"George Washington. John Adams. Thomas Jefferson. James Madison. James Mon-"

"Alright, alright. I believe you."

Their conversation lapsed, Carrie opening the jar of Marshmallow Fluff while Rick added a little more water to the potato mixture. They worked side by side in silence, but the silence was comfortable. As they worked Carrie continually glanced over at him, unable to not admire him. He went about his day with rigid efficiency, his jaw always tense as he kept his attention focused, his guard never falling. She felt privileged to see him as he was now, relaxed and at ease.

"What?" he asked, catching her looking at him.

"Nothing," she shrugged innocently, having been admiring his short beard. She'd never really found beards attractive until she had met him, until she had felt the brush of it against her neck.

"Is there somethin' on my face?"

Carrie chuckled lowly, liking the way he spoke. "I like the way you talk," she said, voicing her thoughts. "I like your accent."

This compliment took him by surprise, reminding her he didn't often take them. Predictably, he brushed it off. "People hate southern accents."

"I guess I'm used to something else entirely," she smiled, thinking of the way New Yorkers generally spoke. Fast and efficient, the beauty of language and accents was often lost in the pace of city life.

Having not measured it, he added a little more water to the potato before stirring again, working the lumps out. Without thinking twice, Carrie put down the the knife and jar of Marshmallow Fluff, turning her full attention to him. It didn't take him long to notice, and he looked mildly confused to find himself at the centre of her attention once again. Enjoying his confusion, she let him wait for a few moments before she reached for him. Sliding her hand around his hip, she stepped closer and stole another kiss. Just as she expected, he tried to keep their kiss gentle and unassuming, and just as it had been that morning, it wasn't enough.

Wanting more, she untucked the back of his shirt and slid her hands across his lower back, enjoying the warmth of his skin under her palms. Finally getting the hint, he began kissing her with the passion she craved, and she moaned in approval when he finally opened his mouth for her. Dropping the spoon into the potato he reached for her, one hand sliding around the back of her neck while the other went for her waist. Eager for all of him, Carrie had to remind herself of exactly where they were, of who could walk in on them at any minute.

As if to echo their thoughts, they heard stuttered footsteps from the staircase, the strange pace indicating that it was Carl hobbling downstairs. As though they hadn't been doing anything at all, Rick and Carrie broke apart and went back to their tasks, becoming increasingly well rehearsed in this. When Carl looked in on them to offer his help, Rick just ushered him back to the living room, telling him to relax. Carrie couldn't help but be pleased with this…as much as she liked Carl, he had interrupted them twice that day.

Putting the lid back on the Marshmallow Fluff, Carrie watched absentmindedly as Rick distributed spoonfuls of mashed potato around the plates, stopping to stir the mixture again when he found more lumps. Looking at him and admiring his ability to keep a composed facade, she was certain about what she was going to say next, about the request she was going to make of him. She had been going to ask him that morning, the notion occurring to her as they stood on the back porch together before Carl interrupted them, but it hadn't felt right. The question would have been premature, the timing wrong…now though, it was different. It didn't matter what had happened the other day…it didn't even matter what had happened to her last summer at the couponer's house. The more time she spent with Rick, the more comfortable she felt, the more confident she was of her decisions.

Her body was telling her that she wanted this man, and her head told her that she trusted him.

She could tell Rick was relaxed, that he was at ease with her once again. Taking a deep breath, she strummed her fingers on the bench top as she wondered how to phrase her question, how best to put it. "Rick…do you have any condoms?"

The words came tumbling from her mouth, blurted out before she could worry too much. Just as she expected, the abrupt question was a curveball to him, and a spoonful of potato fell onto the bench top when he lurched in surprise. Looking at her with his mouth agape, he tried to gauge how serious she was. Keeping her expression plain, she waited expectantly.

"Err," he muttered, hastily collecting his wits. Clearing his throat, he scraped the bowl to get the last of the potato. "You want to?" He didn't need to clarify.

"Yeah. Don't you?"

He only hesitated for a moment. "Yes." Clearing his throat, he clenched his jaw as he thought, and Carrie knew not to interrupt him. "Are you sure?"

Knowing he spoke only out of concern for her, she let him voice his concerns and then addressed them for him. "I know you probably think it's too quick…that because of him I shouldn't want to." She didn't need to clarify who him was.

"I'm not going to tell you how to feel," he told her quickly.

"Good, because I know what I want."

"I can accept that," he said slowly, appearing to be thinking this through. Waiting for his answer, Carrie grew worried by his expression of uncertainty. He looked at her sidelong. "You bringing this up because you want it, or because you think I want it?"

"Because I want it." Her tone was one of certainty, leaving no room for him to misinterpret. "Besides, I know you want it too…there's nothing wrong with that."

He scrutinised the mashed potato, his jaw tense. "You can change your mind," he said gently, these very words indicating she was close to his agreement. "I won't hold you to anything."

"I know."

Slapped a few more spoonfuls onto some plates, he made sure everyone had enough potato. "Alright…good."

There was a short silence, and Carrie sought to get his absolute agreement. "So do you? Do you have any condoms?" she added at the end, reminding him of what she had asked.

As if he had forgotten the question that initiated this conversation, disappointment flashed across his face. "No," he muttered, glaring at the empty bowl as though it had offended him. "I don't."

"What about the ones from The BigSpot?"

His eyes darted to the covered up windows, looking in the direction of the removal truck. "They're buried under all the other supplies…"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was another silence now, but Carrie didn't break it, letting Rick think for a few moments. She could see thoughts ticking over in his mind, his jaw clenched as he set the empty bowl and spoon aside.

"We'll be at Walmart the day after tomorrow."

This was not news she wanted to hear. "You want to wait that long?"

"Well I don't want to…but we can't go rifling through the removal truck."

"No," she agreed reluctantly. "That would look a little obvious."

He turned to face her properly now, and though his expression was plain, Carrie could tell that he wasn't indifferent to their conversation, that he was hiding immense approval. "Leave it with me," he requested. "I'll let you know when I…when I get some."

"Okay," she nodded, taking a small step towards him. "That's fine by me."

"You can change your mind…I won't hold you to anything."

"Yes, Derrick," she recited, knowing he needed to hear that.

He grumbled at this, his eyes narrowed as he stepped back and picked up two plates. "Don't call me that," he told her sternly.

"Right, like I'm afraid of you."

Shaking his head to himself, Rick gave her a more than friendly smile before departing, bringing Carl his food. As she listened to him call out to the others and the subsequent remarks of approval, Carrie smiled to herself as she looked down at the meal she had prepared.

Aside from the lumps in the potato, it wasn't a bad attempt.

* * *

Morning dawned without so much as a cloud in the sky, indicating that it was going to be a somewhat pleasant journey. Having spent the last four hours on watch side by side with Daryl, Rick was glad when they finally climbed down from the cabin of the removal truck, eager to get on with their day. Using their knives instead of machetes, they took down the three Walkers that had roused at the change of light and wandered down the street where they had been staying. Satisfied that the street was safe, they headed back to the trucks and quickly cleaned off the blood from their knives and hands, looking forward to the day ahead of them. Even though the removal truck's engine was beginning to struggle, the temperature gauge rising more than it ought to, there was little reason that they shouldn't make it to the underground bunker that day…hell, they ought to make it that morning.

"I'm gonna check on Nicholas out back," Daryl muttered as he headed for the back yard. "What's the bet he's asleep out there?"

"Almost certain," Rick muttered.

"You want coffee?"

Hearing the front door open, Rick looked over that way and was pleasantly surprised to see who it was. He didn't bother trying to hide the small smile that crossed his face when he saw Carrie stepping outside, particularly when he saw the three travel mugs she was carrying.

"I think that's taken care of."

Seeing what she had, Daryl began to frown, particularly when Carrie intercepted him. "Two spoons of coffee, one sugar, right? Black?"

He gave her a strange look, and it seemed he wasn't quite sure what was happening. "I take it however it comes," he muttered, taking the travel mug she held out. "Thanks."

Trying not to roll his eyes, Rick watched as Daryl took his mug and headed around to the backyard, leaving he and Carrie alone in the front. Gesturing to the minivan, he gratefully took the travel mug from her, letting it warm his cold hands.

"G'morning," she greeted him, the two of them taking a seat on the hood. "How was watch?"

"Dull." He removed the lid and blew on the hot liquid. "Just the way I like it."

"The coffee, or watch?"

He laughed under his breath, smiling at her. "Both."

"I haven't taken watch since we left the prison," she commented, sipping at her tea. Yawning, she brought her feet up to rest on the grill, shifting a little closer to him at the same time.

"That's because everyone likes you…even after that lumpy mashed potato you served them last night."

"Oh, the potato I served?" she questioned, gently nudging him with her elbow. "I seem to remember it was you who couldn't read the instructions."

"It had nothing to do with reading the instructions," he argued, looking up and down the street to check for Walkers. "I was just very distracted."

As if she didn't know, Carrie asked, "By what?"

Taking another look around the street and then back towards the house, Rick set his rifle onto the hood beside him before turning to her. He placed his hand on her knee and then leant over to kiss her, satisfying the longing ache he had been feeling all night. Her lips were soft against his, her hand warm as she reached up to stroke his jaw. Her touch made him wish they could slip away together, even just for a little while.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," he told her when they broke apart, still lingering close but without touching.

"Really? I didn't think I had that effect on you."

Kissing the corner of her mouth, he laughed at how wrong she was. It had been awful last night, laying awake next to Carl while trying not to think about how badly he wanted to sleep with a woman who was only a few feet away. The group had slept in the living room, the only warm room in the house thanks to the fireplace they had lit upon arrival. Though all the windows were boarded up when they got there, no doubt thanks to other survivors who had spent the night, slithers of light passed through the gaps in one of the windows. The light just had to fall on Carrie, didn't it…it couldn't possible fall on anyone else, lighting them up as they slept. For once he had been glad to get up and take watch.

Though he was on the opposite side of the room, sleeping upright in the corner with Carl's feet in his lap, Rick could clearly see Carrie. Her blonde hair had been spread out on her pillow, her shoulder moving in a steady rhythm as she breathed. If it weren't for Abrahams' intrusive snoring, the scene would have been peaceful. Nevertheless, being able to see Carrie had only made Rick's mind get carried away, struggling to think of something other than the suggestion she had made that evening.

"Do you have any condoms?"

She had asked him so casually it took him a moment to realise what she had said, and an even longer moment for him to recover. His reaction hadn't exactly been as smooth as he would have liked…he had dropped half the mashed potato onto the dirty bench and stood there with his mouth gaping. Had he heard her properly? But it sank in pretty quickly, his mind recovering and blessing him with the ability to speak. But in the middle of the night, shrouded in darkness except for what he could see of her, Rick was still in shock. The very notion that she wanted to have sex with him felt absurd…being married for fifteen years meant that he hadn't looked at anyone else in such a way. He noticed attractive women of course, how could he not? After meeting Carrie and accepting his attraction to her, he had of course entertained the idea of having sex with her, already wondering how he could go about making that happen. But given what had happened the previous day, the fact that she had brought it up surprised him.

That night he had looked down at his wedding ring, restlessly turning it around on his finger. He loved his ring, had worn it with pride from the very moment Lori had put it on his hand. The message it sent to the world was clear…that he was spoken for. These days though, he didn't quite know what to do with it. He was widowed now…he wasn't spoken for…but the very notion of no longer wearing it was difficult to comprehend. Abraham had been married before the outbreak, and while he and Rosita were now in a relationship, he hadn't taken his wedding ring off.

Unable to sleep, Rick had taken his ring off and placed it on the carpet next to him. Holding his hand up in the darkness, he squinted at it, always astonished by the way he felt completely naked without it. Any time he took his ring off it felt the same…that something was missing, like the times he didn't have his duty belt on. He wondered what it would be like to not wear his ring at all, questioning what it would mean. Would it be the final acknowledgement that Lori was not coming back? No, he told himself. He had acknowledged that months ago. In the darkness of the prison with Judith asleep against his chest, he had accepted that his wife was never coming back, that he was alone with their two children. So should he be taking his ring off? Surely if he was going to sleep with another woman he ought to, right?

Feeling more and more uncomfortable without it, Rick had hastily put his ring back on, his eyes shifting over to his son. Carl, curse his ability to sleep anywhere, was blissfully unaware of his father's internal conflict, of the fact that he had taken his ring off for just a moment. Reaching an understanding with himself, Rick knew Carl wouldn't take it well if he didn't wear his wedding ring. He wouldn't say anything, not wanting to bring it up, but he would notice for sure. Looking back over at Carrie, Rick knew what was causing his conflict about sleeping with her, and it was not the fact that he still felt married to Lori. It was Carl.

"So," Carrie began, bringing Rick back to the present. "Have you thought anymore about what I asked last night?"

Rick wondered if she had been reading his mind. "Difficult not to," he admitted, feeling her hot breath against his jaw.

When he had finally stopped obsessing over his wedding ring and Carl, he hadn't been able to stop his mind running away with him. He had spent the majority of second watch imagining what it might be like, of how much he longed to run his hands and lips down her body, discovering and claiming every inch of her she had to offer. That train of thought hadn't exactly helped him pay attention. Her had spent a great deal of time thinking about her tattoo, wondering where exactly it was and what it could be. He had always liked Lori's tattoo, the butterfly that had been a birthday present from him. Hardly anyone knew she had it, and it had always been like their own little secret. Dwelling on Carrie's, he longed to know what it was.

"So…"

Realising what she was getting at, Rick rolled his eyes and pulled back from her. "Didn't I tell you I'd take care of it?"

"Well-"

"Don't nag," he scolded her playfully, kissing her lightly. "Or I'll make you wait."

Carrie just scoffed at this, not at all concerned. "That would mean you'd have to wait too."

"I'm a patient man."

"Are you really?" she asked, reaching for the front of his jeans.

The rational part of him wanted to catch her hand, to reprimand her for trying to make this more difficult for him, but it was quickly squashed by the part of him that wanted her to. Resting his forehead against hers, he watched as she pressed her hand against the front of his jeans, rubbing the fabric firmly until she felt him responding. Being responsible, he pushed her hand away before she could do much more, knowing they didn't have the time. Walkers could turn up at any moment, not to mention Carl could be awake.

"You see? I am patient."

"Good for you."

Clearing his throat, Rick swallowed heavily before letting one of his hands reach for her. With clear disapproval, he grasped the long braid that hung down her back, pulling it over her shoulder. "What's with this?"

"My hairstyle offends you?"

"No," he lied, preferring it loose so that he could clench his fist in it. "It's fine."

Pulling the collar of her jacket aside, he leant over and pressed his lips against the curve of her neck, remembering the way it had made her shiver the night before. He wasn't disappointed this morning, enjoying the way she gave a slight shudder. Moving his hands to her waist, he lazily kissed her neck, sweeping his tongue against her skin and tasting her.

"Don't mark me up," she said breathily, fumbling when she nearly dropped her travel mug. With a soft sigh she placed her hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm not."

Footsteps approached them, but Rick didn't stop. He recognised the pace and gait of the person approaching, knowing the only reason he had heard them was because they wanted him to. Trying not to laugh, he watched the way confusion crossed Carrie's face, not understanding why he wasn't pulling away.

"It's only Daryl."

"But-"

"He doesn't give a shit," Rick muttered, leaning in and kissing her lips. As if to show his confidence in this, he kissed her deeply, coaxing her to part her lips. True to what Rick said, Daryl came sauntering towards the military truck, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he passed them.

"Asses in seats, half an hour. Carl's still asleep," he grunted, opening the door to the cabin. He climbed the steps and reached inside, retrieving one of their maps and then jumping back to the ground. Very briefly he cast his gaze over Rick and Carrie, but he might as well have been watching paint dry for all the interest he showed. "Want me to wake him?"

"Please," Rick replied, never looking up.

As soon as Daryl was gone, Carrie burst out laughing, doing her best to stifle it behind her hand. Watching her expression, Rick couldn't help but join her. "Don't worry…he's discreet."

"I hope so, for your sake." She pulled him back to her, kissing him languidly before stopping abruptly. "Come on. We should get in there."

"I have to stay on watch," he told her, regretfully letting her go. "At least we've got something to look forward to."

"Oh?"

He nodded, feigning more confidence than he felt. "I'll take care of what you asked for. Today."

She raised her eyebrows at this. "Today?"

"Sure."

"Where are you getting them from?"

"I'll figure something out," he promised her, already having a plan in mind. It wasn't so much of an impossibility now…just something he dreaded having to do.

"In that case, I'll be waiting," she smiled, brushing her hand over his knee as she headed inside.

In no time at all the rest of the group was wide awake and bustling around, going in and out of the house as they packed their belongings into the cars. Having pumped gas yesterday, they would be ready to depart as soon as they were packed. When Carrie kindly brought him a slice of toast, he had to settle for a thanking her platonically, and then requested she take over watch. Eating on the go, he went about the living room and kitchen, double checking that they had been properly cleared. Satisfied, he and Abraham quickly conversed about their plan for today, knowing they'd have to be particularly vigilant. Their journey towards the underground bunker and the city of Franklin meant that they'd be crossing the route taken by one of the unknown supply runner groups, one of the groups associated with Granger and the others Rick had killed. Though the groups wouldn't be in contact with each other, and so couldn't possibly know what had happened to the others, Rick certainly did not want to run in to them. There was no telling what type of people they were, other than the knowledge that they were part of a well organised larger group in Ohio. Further than that, Rick didn't want to know any more.

"Can I drive today?" Carl asked hopefully.

"Not today," he said apologetically, checking the gas levels in each of the cars. "We're coming towards Franklin where this other group could be."

"Okay," Carl said, accepting this reason. "Who am I riding with?"

"Who haven't you annoyed lately?"

"That's an interesting question. It's been a while since I made that vein on Abraham's forehead pop out."

Laughing, Rick shook his head to himself. "Then maybe you should be riding with him."

He watched Carl head over to Abraham, his expression innocent as he asked if he could ride in the military truck. Rick waited long enough to give Abraham a nod of permission, watching as he helped Carl climb up the steps and passing his crutches up a moment later. Satisfied, he turned his attention to everyone else, keeping track of who was mingling near which car, and that they all had weapons. He looked around for Carrie, and when he found her he subtly gestured to the Hyundai. Appearing nonchalant, she gave the others a quick wave and headed over, trying not to smile too much. As he did the same, he nodded at her in greeting as she took her seat in the passenger side. While he was normally last in the cars, Rick got in early, satisfied that he knew where Carl was.

"Good morning," he said politely. Not knowing what else to say, he just started with that.

"Good morning," she replied. Sipping from her travel mug she placed it in the cup holder next to his. "How was your breakfast?"

"It was good, thank you…" he muttered, trailing off as he saw Rosita heading over to their car. No, no…keep walking. Keep walking.

To his irritation, Rosita headed straight for the Hyundai and opened the back passenger door, slumping down into the back seat with a great huff. Slamming the door shut, she grumbled under her breath as she got situated. Hearing the silence, she looked up at Rick and Carrie sitting in the front. "Oh shit," she sighed in exasperation. "Am I being a third wheel?"

"Yes," Rick muttered under his breath.

"No, of course not," Carrie said over top of him, narrowing her eyes a little.

"Good," Rosita grunted, reaching for Carrie's travel mug. "May I? Thanks…Abraham is in such a foul mood today."

"Well his day's not about to get easier," Rick muttered, thinking of Carl. Completely giving up on the idea of being alone with Carrie, he frowned as he saw Glenn marching towards the car, his expression as sour as Rosita's. "What's wrong?" he asked as Glenn got in the back.

"Aidan," he said shortly, gratefully taking the travel mug when Rosita offered it to him. "He - ugh, what is this?"

"Green tea."

Pulling a face, Glenn leant forward and put it back in the cup holder, exchanging it for Rick's mug of coffee instead.

"What's Aidan done now?" Rick asked, needing to stay on top of conflict.

"Well he's breathing, that's annoying."

"Glenn," Rick warned him, surprised that he had to do so. Glenn was normally so tolerant, so patient with other people. As Abraham gave the all clear, the other cars started up and began to depart.

"He won't give up about that group you and Carrie ran into," Glenn said in frustration, putting on his seat belt. "He and Nicholas keep mouthing off about it, wanting to know what really happened."

Following the path of the military truck ahead of him, Rick clenched his jaw, quickly glancing over at Carrie. At the mention of what happened yesterday, she turned to face out the window, probably hoping to stay out of the conversation. He didn't blame her…Aidan had asked about that group more than a few times since Rick admitted that they were dead, pestering him for details. Apparently the explanation Rick had given the other day wasn't as sufficient as he first though, and Aidan was no longer satisfied by it.

"Cut him some slack," Rick said unexpectedly, surprising them all. "He may be a supply runner, but he hasn't seen what it's like out here."

"That's my point," said Glenn. "He doesn't get it."

"And if he's lucky, he won't ever have to get it, and he'll continue judging us from afar. Alright?" There was a heavy silence from the back seat, making Rick worry a little. "We've got at least another three days left before we get home. We need to keep the peace."

"What about when he kicks up a stink when he get home?" Glenn asked, not argumentatively. "What if he tells Deanna?"

"Let him tell Deanna," Rick replied. "We'll know about it if he does. For now…keep the peace."

Remembering their plans to bug Deanna's house with some listening devices, Glenn sighed and nodded. Though still frustrated with Aidan, he appeared to let it go for now, and thankfully neither he nor Rosita brought up their plans for the bugs. Carrie wasn't privy to that plan just yet, and frankly Rick wanted to keep it that way. He had already tainted her opinion of Deanna and the Alexandrian's, and she deserved the right to form her own. She needed to gauge them for herself, without knowing the full extent of his mistrust.

Glancing at her, he noted that she was still looking out the window, trying to avoid engaging in the conversation about what had happened the other day. But just as Rick started to worry, to fear that she was more than a little bothered by it, she glanced back at him, her small smile enough to reassure him.

As their convoy reached the main road and began to accelerate, Rick braced himself for whatever it was they might find waiting for them at the underground bunker.


	31. Chapter 31

For once things seemed to be going Rick's way.

The group's journey towards the city of Franklin was largely trouble free, their convoy of five vehicles making good time thanks to their early departure. Even the removal truck, whose temperature gauge was giving them cause for concern, had only held them up once that day, necessitating a short break for it to cool down. Four hours after their departure they arrived at the ranch belonging to the doomsday prepper, the convoy pulling to a stop along the road outside the long driveway.

"Asses stay in seats," Abraham requested over the radios. "Engines stay running."

They were being particularly vigilant that day, having very little idea of who or what they were going to find on this property. Given Nicholas' explanation of the documentary featuring the ranch owner, Rick wasn't much assured as to how reasonable this person may or may not be. Aside from pre-existing paranoia, if this man was still alive eighteen months after the outbreak, then he was likely not welcoming of unexpected visitors. Though he didn't like to think in such a way, Rick crossed his fingers that the home owner was dead. Visiting this ranch and the underground bunker had been one of the main priorities for the supply run…if they were chased out of there by a maniac with an uzi, he was going to be very annoyed.

Leaving the others to wait in the cars, Rick, Daryl and Abraham stepped out of their respective vehicles and took a careful look at the area, Abraham getting atop the military truck. All seemed quiet, the wide open fields showing no hint of life, human or otherwise. Abraham scanned the area with the binoculars, locating what looked like the ranch property in the far distance. There was a long pause, Rick and Daryl awaiting his report as he made a thorough assessment.

"All appears quiet," he told them, turning his binoculars to their immediate vicinity. Scanning the road in each direction, and then the woods on their right, Abraham gave another nod. "Quiet here too."

Satisfied with Abraham's assessment, Rick gave the all clear for everyone to get out. He'd be taking a small group to check out the ranch before allowing everyone else to follow, but before that he had to allow for practicalities. Going about their usual routine, everyone split up into groups and headed into the woods to relieve themselves, Daryl escorting Carl as they headed off together. Impatient to get started, Rick opened the back of the removal truck and started taking out the extra weapons they would need, grateful that they had kevlar vests that would afford them some protection if things went to hell.

"What are the dynamics here?" Glenn enquired, rehashing their plan for that day.

Taking note that Daryl and Carl were back within his sight, Rick began. "Nicholas and Aidan are the experts," he explained, pulling on the kevlar vest. "Aaron is the welcome wagon."

"And you and Abraham?"

"Not the welcome wagon," he answered, glancing over at Abraham as he too put on some kevlar. He looked back at Glenn now, wanting to be sure he was on board with the plans. "This sit alright with you?"

He nodded. "We'll take care of this end."

"I know," he assured him, keeping track of those who were coming back.

Michonne, Carrie and Rosita were the last to return, and Rick felt his attention to their plans waning in favour of Carrie. He couldn't help but watch her as she and the others returned from the woods, admiring the wide smile on her face. While Michonne scowled, Carrie and Rosita were stifling laughter behind their hands, and her eyes were crinkled with mirth. Rick was staggered to note how beautiful she looked right now, and he hoped to find out what it was that was making her laugh so hard. As if she knew she had an audience of one, Carrie turned and looked at him, her smile softening momentarily. It reminded him of that morning, of when the two of them sat side by side on the hood of the minivan and kissed. Like a teenager with a crush, his heart actually sped up a little.

"Rick, you…" Glenn began, gesturing to his mouth. "You've got a little drool on your chin."

Startled, he hurriedly raised his hand to his mouth as he looked around at Glenn, narrowing his eyes when he realised he'd been fooled. "Very funny," he muttered darkly, trying to hide his embarrassment. Trying to be subtle about it, he glanced back at Carrie again, seeing her rolling her eyes at him.

"What can I say? You're an easy target."

"Glenn…" he hissed at him, subtly gesturing to Carl who wasn't far away.

"Well don't make it so obvious that you're checking her out."

Biting his tongue, Rick looked around and did a quick head count, making sure everyone was accounted for. Knowing he had to, he looked back at Carrie and grit his teeth when he saw that she was still looking highly amused by something. Though they had already discussed it in detail, Abraham took the group through their plans for the next half hour, detailing what they ought to do in a variety of scenarios. It gave Rick the opportunity to look over at Carrie once again, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as she payed careful attention to what she was being told.

"Everyone clear on that?"

While everyone else nodded and murmured their agreement, Carrie gave a twisted smile and whispered something to Rosita. Momentarily cracking up, Rosita tightly pressed her lips together as she playfully whacked Carrie across the stomach.

"Stop it!" Rosita hissed, barely containing her grin. "Seriously, I'm going to pee myself!"

Noting that Michonne was most definitely scowling, Rick cleared his throat and got their attention. "Rosita? Carrie? Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?" he enquired, looking Carrie in the eye.

"No," Michonne quickly answered on her behalf. "There is not."

Quirking an eyebrow, Rick looked at Carrie expectantly.

"No, Sir," she said, disguising her cheekiness with an innocent smile. "Nothing to share."

Shaking his head at the three of them, Rick sighed and turned to Abraham. "Let's go," he decided, looking around at each person just in case there was uncertainty from anyone.

Judging that everyone gave their approval, the group regained their serious focus and split up, everyone taking on their various roles and duties. Clapping Carl on the shoulder, Rick followed the others and swung himself into the minivan's backseat beside Aidan, Abraham taking a seat on the other side while Aaron and Nicholas took the front. There was no fuss or fanfare as they departed, and Rick tried not to let himself worry too much. His people knew how to look after themselves, that they'd be particularly vigilant. The minivan ambled down the long drive way, the suspension shuddering over every single pothole while Rick went though his usual rituals. Brushing his hands over each weapon, he took stock of them and his spare magazines, mentally preparing himself lest the worst happen. Glancing around the car, he suddenly remembered the days when he still accompanied the others on supply runs outside the prison.

It always started out like this, everyone tense and stressed, double checking their weapons and silently praying they made it back to the prison. As they drew closer and closer to their destinations, the tension and stress grew until someone finally cracked a joke, needing the laughter to help them relax. Rick had been the first one to start cracking jokes on the way to a supply run, worried that his team were too on edge…he often wondered if they kept up their humorous ritual even when he stopped going with them.

Gauging the group, Rick suspected that any jokes made would only encourage Aidan and Nicholas' natural tendency to be reckless, and so he stayed quiet. Between he and Abraham sat Aidan, who seemed neither perturbed nor worried that they were driving down the road towards a potential mad man. Aidan sat quietly…as a matter of fact, he looked bored. Looking at Nicholas in the driver's seat, Rick noted this his expression was exactly the same. In that moment, he got a better understanding of why Glenn had butted heads with these two men.

He hadn't liked Aidan or Nicholas to begin with…but now he understood. Their boredom didn't stem from experience, nor from confidence in knowing what they were doing…it stemmed from complacency, from a lack of understanding as to what might happen to them that day. Alternately, Rick and the others understood precisely what might happen. The scenarios had been running through Rick's mind for the last week, each of them worse than the other. According to Nicholas, the doomsday prepper had a surveillance system in place, meaning that they could be under surveillance already. Hell, someone might have slipped past them and converged on the convoy left waiting on the road, on Carl. Further to that, there could be bloody traps set up to deter people exactly like them, traps that could injure or kill them.

Gravel crunched against the tyres as the minivan came around a bend in the road, the sound of it breaking Rick from his worries. His fingers flexing around the handle of the M4, he watched as the tree line parted to reveal a typical ranch house, a long porch gracing the facade. Single story, the house had a distinct air of abandonment, the windows and doors all boarded up. The minivan came to a stop, Nicholas turning off the ignition and putting the keys under the sun visor.

"Let's go," he declared, getting his rifle ready.

"No," Rick said firmly.

Looking back at him, Nicholas raised his eyebrows, a sour look crossing his face. "Why no-"

"Wait."

Sharing a glance with Abraham, Rick let a few moments pass, his eyes scanning their surroundings. If there were people alive here, then they had to tread very carefully. They couldn't appear as a threat. They'd rather leave empty handed than engage in any kind of fire fight. Craning his neck to see it better, Rick observed the barn situated a hundred yards away, where the entrance to the underground bunker was hidden. There was no sign of movement from there, nor from the house. Aside from a couple of chickens that pecked at the over grown garden by the front porch, there was no signs of life anywhere.

"Aaron," Rick began, prompting him.

Understanding, Aaron slowly stepped out of the car, holding his hands in the air as he looked around. Still there was no movement, and a few moments later he turned back to Rick with a shrug. Confident that they were alone, Rick gave his nod of approval. The rest of them departed the car, carrying their rifles at the ready, just in case they were taken by surprise.

"Let's split up," Rick decided, squinting as he looked around. His instincts told him that this was safe…he didn't feel the presence of anyone else. "You guys take that side. Nicholas, you're with me."

Separating into two groups, they quietly made their way around the ranch house, carefully observing the windows just in case they could see anything inside. He and Nicholas walked in silence, the only sound being their feet as they walked over fallen twigs and leaves. Observing the many spider webs under the eaves, Rick confirmed his expectation that the house was abandoned, a distinct stench supporting this. The bunker however, could still be occupied.

"Nothing here," Nicholas commented, the binoculars raised as he checked out the rest of the property. "Let's try the barn."

"We need to finish the house first."

As always, Rick words were not to be argued with, particularly by Nicholas. They reached the back of the house where they met up with the others who were waiting on the back porch.

"Looks abandoned," Aidan commented.

"Quite an aroma," Abraham added, gesturing to one of the windows. "Looks like we got Stinkers behind the frosted glass in that bathroom over there."

"Let's find out," Rick decided.

Swinging his rifle over his shoulder, he drew his machete and crossed the back porch, approaching a set of french doors. He bashed his knuckles against the glass panes and then stood back to wait, observing the group dynamic for a moment. Having been the one who knew about the doomsday prepper's ranch, Nicholas seemed to think it gave him some kind of privilege. When there was no response from inside the house, Rick tried the handle, not perturbed to find that it was locked. He suspected what they would find inside, the smell of rotted flesh already perceptible. Considering Nicholas for a moment, Rick stepped aside.

"Nicholas? Would you like to do the honours?"

Jutting his jaw out, Nicholas looked pleased by the offer. Nevertheless he shook his head, perhaps unsure that he would be able to do it. Pushing against the door once more, Rick looked at the top and bottom to see how much give there was, determining whether they were secured with a second or third lock. Confident that it was only the handle, he stepped back and drove his foot against the wood just to the left of the lock.

The french doors broke open with ease, the wood splintering as the lock was displaced. But as soon as Rick stepped foot inside he went rushing back out, retching at the foul stench that welcomed his arrival. As it wafted outside, the others began covering their mouths and noses with groans of disgust, hastily stepping away. Letting himself cough and gag for a few moments, Rick took a deep breath of fresh air and held it. He looked back inside and determined the source of the stench, a rotting corpse that sat on the living room couch. Still holding his breath, he stepped inside and opened up both of the doors, using his machete to pull some of the wooden boards down from the window frames. He opened up a window before making a hasty retreat outside again, willing himself not to puke. Though they were definitely used to foul smells since the outbreak, this one sure was particularly bad. Having been cooped up inside a sealed house, the stench of the rotting corpse had only accumulated.

"How many?" Aaron asked, looking rather green.

"Just one. On the couch."

"A Walker?"

Rick shook his head. "Judging by the shot gun beside him, and the blood spatter on the ceiling, no."

They allowed themselves a few minutes to get used to the smell, their shirts over the faces only doing so much to help. Not able to put it off any longer, they steeled themselves and then went inside, cautiously looking around for Walkers as they pried the wooden boards off the window frames and then opening them, hoping to air out the house quickly. Casting his eyes over the corpse, Rick estimated it's age and gender, certain that this was the doomsday prepper Nicholas had seen on the documentary.

Taking a proper look around, Rick checked out the open plan kitchen, living and dining room, trying to gauge whether it had been lived after the outbreak. Aside from the spider's webs and dust, it appeared relatively tidy, untouched by scavengers until that day. Opening the cupboard doors, Rick took note that all of the food had been emptied out, likely moved to the underground bunker as soon as the chance was available.

"I wonder how long they made it," Aaron said sadly, looking at a child's drawing on the refrigerator.

Getting straight to work, they quietly went about clearing the house, opening up doors and windows as they went. As Abraham suggested, they found two Walkers in the bathroom. It was over quickly, the Walkers easy to take down, even in the confined space that normally made it more difficult. When it was done they each took pause and looked at the corpses, uncomfortably aware of who they were. A woman and teenage boy, they were likely the people who lived there. When his wife and son turned, it appeared the doomsday prepper, like so many others, had opted out. Even worse, was Nicholas' final comment as they dragged all three bodies out of the house.

"He had three kids…there should be two more boys. Younger."

Rick didn't say anything at this, dreading the possibility that they might find two more Walkers elsewhere on the property. These days he avoided looking at the faces of the Walkers he killed, the thought that they were once living, breathing people too much to weigh on his shoulders. But children were the worst, and there were plenty of child sized Walkers out there. As he often did, he thought of the young girl in the pink dressing gown, one of the very first Walkers he had ever killed. It had been a flicker of hope in the early days, that he had found someone he might be able to help.

There was, however, no time to linger, and no time to feel sorry for the people who had lived there. They quickly set about looking for supplies, but as they expected they found very little. Anything would have been taken out of the house long ago, moved to safety in the underground bunker. Nevertheless they checked, Rick heading straight for the master bedroom with one particular necessity in mind. Glad the others had chosen other rooms to look through, Rick had begun opening the drawers of the bedside tables, looking for the condoms he had promised Carrie he would find. Clenching his teeth, he found none, not even in the en suite bathroom. Sighing, he knew that if he didn't find any in the under ground bunker, he was going to have to ask Abraham for one of his. Sure, he could grab a packet tomorrow when they went to the Walmart Super Centre in town, but tonight presented the only viable opportunity to actually use them.

After radioing back to check on the others, they progressed towards the barn. Still cautious, they carried their weapons ready to use, approaching slowly as they looked around. There were six solar panels fixed to the roof of the barn, and near the backyard of the house were the remnants of a vegetable garden. Making a mental note to check it for food, Rick tried not to look at the children's swing set and sand pit as they walked past. Following the driveway past the back of the house and towards the barn, constantly scanning their surroundings for threats, just in case.

"Nicholas, I thought you said he raised cattle," Rick commented as they entered the barn. Looking around at the various equestrian equipment and supplies, he took stock of all that too, already knowing they might need it. Aaron spoke affectionately of a horse named Buttons that made occasional appearances near Alexandria, and he was hopeful to domesticate it.

"I dunno," Nicholas shrugged, leading them into the second to last horse stall. He kicked aside the muck on the ground to reveal a large metal trap door. Nicholas sorted through the keys that had taken from the house and found the right one. "Open sesame," he declared triumphantly, hauling the trap door open.

The dim light of the barn revealed a metal staircase below, and to their relief there was no stench of death to greet them upon opening. Crouching down, Rick turned on his flashlight and shone it inside, taking care to assess what ever he could see before he allowed his people to go down.

"Ready?" he asked, taking out his revolver.

The others nodded in agreement, taking out their own guns and flashlights as Rick cautiously went descending the stairs. His boots echoed on the metal staircase, announcing his arrival to anyone down there living in the pitch darkness. Upon reaching the bottom far below, he encountered a heavy steel door, one that would be impenetrable without the correct key. Taking the keys he had retrieved from the corpse, Rick slipped one inside and turned the lock, pulling down the large door handle that would admit them in and out. Pushing the heavy door open, he stepped into more darkness, shining his flashlight around. As the others joined him, the collective light from all five flashlights illuminated the bunker just well enough to look around with ease.

"We'll have to reset the solar power," Nicholas commented, flicking the light switches on and off to no avail.

Just as he had said, the bunker appeared to be made of reinforced shipping containers. They had entered into a cramped living area, three mismatched couches centred around a television and games console, no doubt necessary to keep three children entertained. Further in was a dining table for five, and beyond that was a U shaped kitchen. Unlike the house, the bunker had the distinct air of having been lived in. On the dining room table sat an empty mug and plate, while elsewhere personal possessions were strewn about. Though it was tidy and clean, it was obvious that the family had survived underground for a little while at least. Perhaps doomsday preppers weren't so crazy after all.

Moving on, Rick checked out the rest of the bunker, opening one of the two doors on the far left wall. This shipping container was the dedicated sleeping area, containing three bunk beds and a double, each of them constructed to maximise space and storage. There was barely any head room for each bunk, and not much more for the double bed thanks to the overhead cupboards above. Putting his revolver back in it's holster, Rick began opening the cupboards and shining his flashlight inside, finding clothing, extra bedding and more personal possessions.

Hearing shouts of delight from elsewhere, Rick closed the cupboards and went back into the living room. The others had gone through the only other door, which revealed a narrow hallway. To his right was a door that lead to a bathroom, but beyond that was what had caught the attention of the others. Joining them, Rick followed the light from their flashlights, his mouth gaping at what they had found.

Nearly arranged on floor to ceiling shelves was the highly coveted stockpile of supplies. Though it was cramped, three sets of floor to ceiling shelves dominating the length of the shipping container, it appeared extremely well organised. Swearing under his breath, Rick walking down the first narrow aisle and looked over every shelf, taking into account the various canned goods, industrial bags of flour, sugar and salt, as well as enormous containers of emergency food. Milk powder, dehydrated fruit and vegetables, rice, rolled oats, honey powder, lentils…the collection was vast. Further down were various other items necessary for comfortable living. Toilet paper, toothbrushes, soap, detergent, water filters…the collection went on and on, the supplies outshone only by the massive lockers at the very end.

Suspecting exactly what was in there, Rick pulled the set of keys out of his pocket and started shuffling through them. Trying a few different ones, he successfully found the one that turned the lock. Opening the heavy metal door, he nodded in satisfaction as everyone else gave shouts of success. Shining his flashlight inside, he took note of the automatic weapons and ammunition that were securely stored, moving on to the next set of doors. Opening up everything else, they discovered a wide variety of weapons ranging from rifles and hand guns to knives and machetes. Opening the final locker, Rick was pleased to see various sets of kevlar, body armour and other equipment. Though he was reluctant to admit it out loud, Nicholas' idea that they come here had been a good one.

"Well fuck me sideways," Abraham whispered in awe, looking at the grenades on display. "We're going to need a bigger truck."

"We might," Rick agreed, leaving the doors open and turning his attention to the wide desk and wall of computer monitors.

He counted six monitors all together, various cords running down and connecting to a computer that sat on the desk. Frowning, Rick heard a low hum before the lights suddenly turned on, startling them all. As his eyes adjusted, he noted that Nicholas was gone, having left to turn the solar panels back on. A few of the lightbulbs were out, but there was more than enough light to see by now. Waiting for Nicholas to rejoin them, Rick booted up the computer and watched as the Windows loading screen appeared on all six monitors.

Aidan snorted in derision. "What a dick…who used Windows Vista in two thousand and twelve?"

Ignoring him, Rick, Abraham and Aaron hovered around the screens and waited silently, interrupted only by Nicholas' abrupt return.

"Pretty good, yeah?" Nicholas declared, taking a proper look at the supplies for himself.

"Not bad," Abraham agreed, nodding his head. "Worth the effort, that's for sure."

A minute later the computer was ready for use, and Rick scanned the desktop for the software program that had been in use. Booting it, he watched in satisfaction as the screens turned grey before they one by one connected to the security feed. It was immensely surprising that after all this time the cameras were still in working order, with the exception of one. The five screens showed them various areas around the property, with one even picking up their convoy of vehicles in the distance.

"I don't get it," Aidan muttered, his brow pinched as he held a jar of pickled onions. "That guy had all of this…why did he kill himself?"

Rick looked at him, surprised that he hadn't drawn the conclusion himself. "Because he didn't do all of this for himself."

Leaving his explanation at that, Rick headed into the pod bathroom, kicking aside the mouldy towel that was on the floor. Yanking aside the shower curtain, he turned the taps on and was rewarded with a stream of water from the shower head. Mentally crossing his fingers, he put his hand under the running water and waited. He knew what his people desired almost more than food, more than a safe place to sleep. A minute later he smiled, looking back to the others who hovered in the doorway.

"We've got hot water."

* * *

The clouds overhead cast a foreboding shadow, indicating that a bout of poor weather was heading their way. Conscious of the time, Rick, Abraham, Daryl and Aaron made their way through the small city, clearing the roads towards Walmart so that they would have easy access the following morning. Today their priority was to completely pack up everything of value from the underground bunker, and then to relax for a little while. A good meal, hot showers and perhaps a sleep in the following morning would rejuvenate them all, preparing them for the final stretch on the way home to Alexandria. Although there were plenty of Walkers around, it seemed safe to let their guard down for a little while.

It was strange passing through yet another empty city, unable to comprehend the simplicity of it. A city of over forty thousand, and there appeared to be not one survivor left. Nicholas and Aidan had been here a little over a month ago and found it untouched, but since then scavengers had been through, as evidenced by the way some of the roads were cleared and store windows broken in. It was with trepidation that they thought of their target, hoping that whoever cleared the city had seen the task of clearing Walmart as too daunting. Stopping yet again to move cars off the road, Rick took care to check inside each car as he disengaged the hand brake, quickly checking the glove compartments for anything they could use. He found a couple packs of Tylenol and an asthma inhaler, but not the one thing he was looking for most desperately. One condom was all he needed, one lone condom that would fulfil his promise to Carrie…and God, how he wanted to fulfil that promise. But as though the world, and God most likely, were taunting him, he found nothing to aid his plight.

Swinging himself back into the minivan, Rick sat on the edge of the seat with his feet hanging out the open door, knowing there was no point in getting comfortable. On the other side, Daryl was doing the same, his crossbow ready to go at a moment's notice. As Abraham drove through the town, Aaron navigating, they got closer and closer to their destination. They had plenty of ammunition to spare, and so every time they saw Walkers Abraham would slow down just enough for the others to shoot them. Taking down one or two Walkers felt as useful as digging a grave with a teaspoon, but it needed to be done. One less Walker in the world had to be an advantage.

"Pharmacy," Daryl spoke up, noticing a street sign. "Up tha' way."

Diverting from their route, Abraham took them the way Daryl had indicated. This particular road seemed to have been cleared, and so Rick didn't get his hopes up that they would find anything useful. Nevertheless they stopped, Rick and Daryl departing the car and heading into an expansive drug store a little way down the road. Trying not to look obvious about it, Rick hung back a little and let Daryl head for the prescription medications. It didn't matter if Daryl saw what he was looking for, he wouldn't say anything about it…but Rick wasn't sure he could stand the inevitable smirk that would cross his face. God, so long as Glenn didn't know, he wouldn't be mocked. But to his disappointment, there was no point in worrying what anyone would say. Every contraceptive had been cleaned off the shelves, and the lack of dust on the shelves indicated that it had only been recently. Wanting to be certain, Rick looked around on the floor, kicking aside packets of useless goods as he searched.

All he needed was one.

"Find anything?" he asked Daryl, giving up on his own search.

"Guess so," he shrugged, showing him three orange pill bottles. "Don't know what they are…Pete will have to tell us."

Being thorough, they cleared out anything else on the shelves that could prove useful in any capacity, lucky enough to even find some containers of baby formula. Ensuring that he stuck by his own rules, he left two containers behind, hoping that they benefitted someone else down the track. Loading the contents into the trunk, Rick and Daryl resumed their seats and set off again, heading back the way they had come. A few minutes later they came across the large shopping centre where Walmart was located. Thinking ahead to tomorrow, they methodically cleared a wide enough path for the larger vehicles to make their way through the car crash at the adjoining intersection, Rick putting a bullet through the head of a Walker who had been crushed between two cars.

At the rear of the parking lot, the Walmart dominated the shopping centre, and flanking it on either side were a series of smaller stores, the shopping centre no doubt drawing in many customers throughout it's life. The large car park was strewn with cars, and like an annoying puzzle, they slowly went about clearing a path. The routine of disengaging the hand brakes and checking the glove compartments was monotonous, the process feeling like it took a lot longer than ten minutes, but it was a necessary task. In the end though, they had cleared enough room for all of their vehicles to arrive the following day, and enough room for them to make a hasty departure if something went wrong.

Heading to Walmart's entrance, Rick was pleased to see that although the town itself appeared to have been ransacked, this particular store still seemed untouched. The knowledge that someone else had been through here since then sat uncomfortably with Rick, suspecting it was one of the supply runner groups from Ohio. But given the inactivity in the town, whoever had scavenged here seemed to have already left, the task of clearing the Walkers from Walmart perhaps too large for their group.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Rick enquired, knowing Abraham would have things under control. He was content to sit back and let he and Aaron plan, knowing that they consulted him for the final decision.

"We gas up all the vehicles, and fill our spares. That way we can make an immediate departure if things go to Shit Creek," Abraham began, their group of four heading towards the large doors that would welcome them to Walmart. Without preamble, Abraham slipped his hands through the large metal grates and bashed his fist against the glass doors behind. "Then here. Get these doors open, draw out any Walkers and take them down. Leave a couple of us out here on watch, then we'll start clearing the essentials, get them packed up. Then we'll go back in for luxuries…pack them up, and then we're done."

"Good," Rick commented, not taken by surprise when they heard loud thuds against the sliding doors. Looking at them without concern, he counted three rotting faces pressed up against the glass already, and more coming.

"If this takes more than a few hours, it might be worth staying another night," Abraham said.

"It might."

"Would give us the opportunity to check out those houses," he continued, leading the others back to the car. They knew there were Walkers inside, they didn't need to linger and get them more excited. "Some looked pretty rich."

"Rich folk got meds," Daryl added. "The good ones, too."

"I don't want to know how you know that, Daryl," Abraham said darkly, starting up the minivan and taking off.

Sharing a laugh with Daryl, Rick made a request. "Let's check the back, make sure there're no surprises."

"You read my mind, Officer," he grinned, his rough driving threatening to unseat Rick and Daryl in the back. "We'll check the back, and then get out of here. There's a roasted chicken with my name on it."

With tomorrow's plan in mind, Rick sat back and let Abraham drive around the back of the shopping centre, arriving at the loading docks. Inspecting the docks and rear doors, they were quickly satisfied that nothing was left open, reassuring them that they wouldn't be taken unawares. When they went inside tomorrow, they would make sure everyone knew the various exits, but if everything went according to plan they wouldn't be needed.

"Stop here," Daryl said, rapping his hands on the roof. "I wanna check out this truck."

Abraham slowed to a stop, Daryl and Aaron heading off without another word. Seeing a couple of Walkers appear around the corner, Rick stepped out too. He raised his gun with the silencer and took them down, doing a quick sweep of the area as Daryl raised his hand in thanks. Satisfied that they were safe, Rick glanced at Abraham, who was currently leaning against the hood with his arms folded. Letting Daryl and Aaron take a look around, Rick joined Abraham and enjoyed the silence, mimicking his stance.

Rick knew he had an opportunity here…if there was one person in their group who would have condoms on hand, it was Abraham. Though they had often joked that he and Rosita would hurt themselves if they didn't slow down, Rick had never been so glad someone in their group was enjoying frequent sex. Abraham would have condoms…all he had to do was ask for one. But despite being a grown man, despite being completely free to do as he pleased without needing to explain himself to anyone, Rick was embarrassed. Like a teenager buying condoms for the first time, he was embarrassed before he even asked the question. He allowed himself a few moments to think it through, paying attention as Daryl and Aaron banged their fists against the roller door at the end of the delivery truck. Satisfied that there were no Walkers inside (they had certainly found them in stranger places), Aaron raised his axe and broke the lock, the roller door opening with a loud rattle.

"Abraham," Rick began, avoiding eye contact. "I err….I need to ask you for something. A favour."

"Mmm?"

Only letting himself hesitate for a moment, Rick forced himself to speak. "Have you got any condoms I could have?"

It took Abraham so long to react that Rick almost repeated his question, thinking he hadn't heard. Very slowly, Abraham turned to look at him quizzically, his brow furrowed. "For who?"

"Me."

"You?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Rick ground out, looking at him in exasperation.

"No," he replied quickly, not bothering to hide his smirk of amusement. "Well, well, well…who's the lucky lady?"

"Abe…"

"I know it ain't Rosita…and you and Michonne ain't like that."

Rick sighed, letting Abraham tease. He watched absently as Daryl and Aaron disappeared inside the back of the truck, shining their flashlights around.

"…so unless you and Daryl are going Brokeback Mountain, it must be Carrie."

"Does it really matter?"

"No," Abraham assured him. "I just like watching you squirm."

"Good to know."

There was an awkward silence, Rick slowly forcing himself to look around at Abraham. Seeing his smirk, it was difficult for Rick to keep a straight face. His embarrassment fading, he rolled his eyes as Abraham clapped him on the shoulder, congratulating him.

"You can't wait until tomorrow?" he enquired, gesturing at the shopping centre.

"Well I could…but tonight does present an unusual opportunity to get away from Carl."

"Ah, the kids. They sure are cock blockers."

"God, Abraham…" Rick groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Abraham laughed loudly. "No, it's God Carrie, that you should be saying."

On the verge of giving up, Rick almost shut his mouth completely, knowing Abraham could make an innuendo out of almost anything. "Can you help me out or not?"

Laughing again, Abraham nodded in amusement. "I can…I'll take care of it for you."

"Thank you," he said gratefully, relieved that it was over. "Tonight though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, Captain Urgent. So…when did thi-"

"No," Rick cut him off hastily.

"Oh come on. How di-"

"No."

"But I get details after, right?"

"No!"

Scoffing, Abraham pretended to be affronted. "So you come askin' for one of man kind's most valued supplies, and I don't get even get details of the event?"

"That's right," he nodded, seeing Daryl and Aaron jumping from the back of the truck. "And some subtlety would be nice."

"Alright."

"I'm serious. If this gets back to Carl, it won't be pretty."

Sobering a little, Abraham nodded. "He won't hear it from me."

"Thanks," he said gratefully. "And…thanks."

Returning to the car, Daryl shook his head negatively. "Nothing worth taking. Some flat packs, couple'a barbecues."

"Let's get our asses back then," Abraham decided, looking up at the darkening sky in concern.

Trying not to look too pleased, Rick kept a straight face as he returned to the back of the minivan, glad that he didn't have to make eye contact with Abraham anymore. As they set off back toward the underground bunker on the outskirts of town, Rick tried to forget about what had just transpired, part of him not wanting to get his hopes up. Maybe Abraham wouldn't come through for him…maybe something would come up during the night and the opportunity for he and Carrie to sneak away would be lost. But maybe…just maybe, things would keep working in Rick's favour.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N Responses to reviews that were left by guests.

Jenna H - Thanks for your review! Yeah I'm generally following the Alexandria storyline, so according to the TV show this story is set in late season five before the shit starts hitting the fan with the Alexandrians. Don't worry though, shit will hit the fan with these guys in the next story.

JoFrench22 - I must implore you to get a log in for this site so that I can message you directly to respond to your reviews! (c29) Carol is definitely bad ass these days. I think with Maggie on the TV show it's just a matter of opportunity/many characters to cram in. I want to see more of her too. (c30) More Carrie interactions? I give you chapter 32! (c31) Calm before the storm? I think that's what my beta Angie said too! As for Carl knowing about Rick and Jessie on the show, I don't think he does. They really only kissed the night before the tower fell, I don't think there's been a lot of time to discuss, or really for them to get up to much. As for my Carl, think of the Carl in the episode 4x09 After :-) That's an indication for you, and chapter 32 will explain a little more too.

* * *

The wind was whipping up a minor gale, threatening to tear the wet clothing out of Carrie's hands. Working quickly, she fixed the clothes to the long washing line and hoped they would dry soon, knowing the group generally preferred to get their belongings organised and packed before nightfall. Looking into the enormous basket of wet laundry, Carrie revelled in this particular chore, knowing what a luxury it was to have clean clothing.

Upon arriving in the bunker and discovering the hot water, there had practically been a fist fight in order to be the first one to shower, and that was just between Rosita and Michonne. The arguments settled by sheer determination, one by one they had showered and changed into whatever clean clothing that had, exalting in the sheer comfort of being clean. It was most certainly a morale booster, everyone getting a kick out of listening to Abraham's joyful singing while they started packing the supplies. Yet Carrie's luck ran out, her place in the long queue meaning that there was no hot water left when it was finally her turn.

The bathroom was far from comfortable, the minuscule proportions necessitating an awkward, towel clad dash to the bedroom in which they could dress, but the payoff was more than worth it. Taking her time just like everyone else, Carrie had applied generous amounts of shampoo and conditioner to her hair, delighting in how clean and smooth it now was. It definitely needed to be cut, far too long for her liking, but she delighted in it nonetheless. Enjoying the rare privacy, Carrie delighted in being able to shave her legs again, having done a terrible job of it at the prison.

While Rick, Abraham, Daryl and Aaron headed straight into the city, the others spent their time clearing out the bunker, carrying the supplies up the staircase and depositing them by the trucks. Despite the massive volume, the task was largely completed, held up only by the necessity of sorting and organising the goods before they were put on the trucks. Tomorrow they would be clearing out Walmart, and it was essential that they packed the trucks to maximise capacity, not wanting to be forced to leave anything behind.

"You alright?" Carrie asked, craning her neck to see Carl on the other side of the washing line. She had heard him swearing under his breath, and she didn't want him to strain himself too much. He was impatient with his impaired mobility, and was quite often abandoning the use of his crutches until either someone told him off or the pain started again.

"Yeah," he grunted, picking up a shirt he had dropped. Sighing, he shook it out and brushed it off, scrutinising it to see how dirty it has become. Shrugging to himself, he hung it on the line and secured it in place.

Though she knew he was a good kid overall, Carrie had to admit she was surprised by how hard Carl worked and how little he complained. Earlier she had been surprised to find him in the makeshift laundry, scrubbing at an item of clothing before putting it into the washing machine. He had taken to the task without being asked, seeing something he could do to help the group. Another teenager might have complained about the menial task of helping with the laundry, especially when there was a perfectly good Playstation sitting in the lounge room. But to his credit, Carl hadn't so much as glanced at it. Even with his injury, he didn't slow down.

Looking at him, she noticed he was hanging out Rick's brown coat, the one he had been wearing when they ran in to Granger the other day. Blood stains had marred the fabric, and he had stopped wearing it in favour of his spare…this was what Carl had been scrubbing when she found him earlier. She wondered what Rick had told him, or if Carl had even questioned the state of it. With her heart clenching, she wondered if this was an unusual occurrence for Carl, to find someone's clothing stained with blood, or if he was used to it by now.

Dwelling on Carl, guilt flickered in the pit of her stomach as she thought of the way Rick was deceiving him. Rationally the fact that Rick had a love life after the death of his late wife was none of his son's business, and it wasn't unreasonable that he keep it from him, but the depth of their deception did hit her a little more that day. Earlier, Daryl and his straight up personality had laid it out for her, the two of them taking watch atop the removal truck while Rick and the others checked out the ranch property.

 _It had been ten minutes since they had taken watch together, and aside from polite small talk, they hadn't said a word to each other. Embarrassed, she kept thinking back to that morning when Daryl had walked past she and Rick kissing, and though they weren't mauling each other, it wasn't exactly platonic. Rick had assured her Daryl didn't give a shit, a notion which Daryl's behaviour supported, but still…a little conversation wouldn't hurt them._

 _"Hey Daryl," Carrie began, trying to break the silence._

 _"Mmm?" he asked, blowing his cigarette smoke away from her._

 _"Could I try out your crossbow?"_

 _As she suspected it might, her request got his attention, and he looked at her with a startled expression. "No," he said abruptly, his hand wrapping around the handle as though he was afraid she might try to snatch it from him._

 _She pretended to protest, liking how easy it was to tease him. "You let Carl use it."_

 _"That's…that's different."_

 _"Is it a gender thing? No girls allowed?"_

 _"No," he protested, looking at her mistrustfully. "It's a….just, no."_

 _Smiling at him, Carrie just gave a dramatic sigh. "Fine."_

 _Huffing, Daryl took another long draw on his cigarette, but from the corner of her eye she could see the hint of a smile on his face. Christ…that was rarer than Rick smiling._

 _"Rick let me fire his Colt."_

 _Daryl gave a low laugh, the tone of it making her look at him. "Yeah? I bet Rick lets you do a lot of things…"_

 _Unable to help it, Carrie giggled with embarrassment. "I walked right into that, didn't I?"_

 _"Yes, you did."_

 _Laughing to herself again, Carrie brushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ear, raising her binoculars and looking each way down the road. She and Daryl were technically on watch, but everyone else was at attention too…the only activity came from Michonne and Carl, who sat side by side on the hood of the minivan, engaged in a heated discussion as Carl rapidly flicked through a comic book. They sat precisely where she and Rick had sat that morning, reminding her of why she felt so awkward with Daryl right now._

 _"Daryl…about this morning."_

 _"This mornin'?"_

 _"Yeah, when you saw Rick and I kissing. I -"_

 _"Christ, Blondie," he cut her off, using the new nickname he had given her. "What yah bringing that up for?_

 _Looking at his expression, she nearly burst out laughing. She might feel awkward, but Daryl's embarrassment was written all over his face. "Well, I just thought -"_

 _"Nope," he shook his head. "I don't want nothin' to do with people's business…especially that kind of business."_

 _"Okay," she nodded, seeing that Rick was more correct than she first realised. Daryl really didn't give a shit, and that was a relief to know. "Good."_

 _"I ain't got no comment," he added, stressing this._

 _"No comment. Got it."_

 _Although she had hoped conversation would make it more comfortable, it seemed that perhaps silence really was a better option._

 _"Actually, I do have one comment," he said abruptly, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the road._

 _"I'm all ears."_

 _Grunting shortly, he indicated to Carl. "Him."_

 _"Yeah, I know," she assured him, watching Carl. The debate with Michonne was intensifying, and they were now consulting a second comic book. "Make sure he doesn't know."_

 _"Make sure he's got no damn idea."_

 _"Yes, of course."_

 _Looking at her critically, Daryl suddenly scoffed under his breath._

 _"What?"_

 _He chuckled darkly, and when he looked at her, she was confused to see a little sympathy. "Look…I know he looks innocent an' all, but Carl's got a reputation for reacting badly to things."_

 _"How does he react?"_

 _"You ever shook a can of soda and then opened it?"_

 _"Oh," she laughed uncomfortably, looking over at Carl again. Despite his heated debate with Michonne, it was difficult to picture him in a temper. He seemed so…well behaved._

 _"Couple of months back, Rick had to take Carl's gun off him. Permanently."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Thy 'why' doesn't matter…what matters is that Carl fuckin' hit the roof because of it. Now he's just a kid, but he's got a vicious tongue when he's mad, and Rick's the one in the firing line."_

 _Beginning to understand what Daryl was trying to tell her, Carrie nodded in understanding. While keeping Carl in the dark certainly avoided him a certain amount of heartache, Rick was the one who Daryl was really trying to protect, who they'd all be protecting. Still looking at Carl, she wondered when she would one day see this side of the teenager, knowing that it was inevitable he eventually show it. Just like Rick had been forced to show her the other side of himself the day they encountered Granger, one day Carl would too._

 _"Thank you," she said sincerely, looking at Daryl now._

 _"He can't catch even a whiff," he warned her again. "Not a hint of anythin' more than friendliness going on between you and his dad. Alright?"_

 _"I got it. Message received."_

 _Grunting in acknowledgement, Daryl muttered something under his breath as he took out his cigarettes and opened them, needing another one._

 _"I think this is the most we've ever spoken to each other."_

 _Daryl just grunted again, his attention focused on his lighter that was running out of fluid. "Well is that it then, huh? Can we go back to sitting in uncomfortable silence again?"_

 _"Sure…that would be fine."_

 _The silence was indeed awkward now, but Carrie knew better than to break it again._

"What's your sister like?" Carrie enquired, feeling like she should make conversation. She hoped she wasn't making the same mistake that she had with Daryl, thinking that the silence ought to be filled when it shouldn't.

"Judith?" Carl asked, frowning at her.

"You got another one?"

"No…She's okay, I guess."

"Only okay? Any time I've heard you talk about her, it's like the sun shines out of her ass."

Carl laughed at this. Moving, he came and stood on her side of the washing line, making conversation a little easier. "I dunno," he said sheepishly, not knowing how to describe her. "I guess it does."

"What does she like?"

"She likes…mashed potatoes. She likes being read to."

"Can she walk yet?"

"No," he shook his head, sounding disappointed. "Dad says she's just too impatient to try, that crawling's faster."

"Her birthday's coming up though, right?"

"Yeah, on the seventeenth. Is it the ninth of March today?"

She nodded. "That'll be pretty sad for you too," she said carefully, not sure of how Carl would react. "It's the day you lost your mom, right?"

Carl nodded and gave a brief shrug, but Carrie could tell he was being stoic. "I don't want it to be sad though…otherwise when Judy gets older, she'll feel bad. It wasn't her fault."

"No."

"I've told Dad that we should throw her a party…he said he's going to make her a cake."

"Oh yeah? What's he making?"

"I dunno. He's never made a birthday cake before," he shrugged, not sounding as though he had much faith in him. "Mom usually did that."

There was a pause in the conversation, Carl focused on finding the seam of a pair of jeans. Something else unexpected, Carl was doing a pretty good job of hanging out washing for a teenage boy.

"I know what your Dad's getting her," she began. "Did he tell you?"

"No," he said, his interest aroused. "What is it?"

"A bracelet. With a lady bug on it."

"Oh," he said, a little underwhelmed.

"Are you going to get her something from Walmart?"

Carl nodded eagerly now. "I want to get her one of those cars, the Crazy Coupe. Dad wants to get her a crib too, but that's not for her birthday."

"She hasn't got one now?"

"It's only a fold down. He wants to get her a real nice one, like Mom would have chosen."

"That sounds nice," she commented. "I suppose you'll…"

Carrie trailed off mid-sentence, hearing the sound of an approaching engine. In one swift movement everyone turned and looked towards the ranch house, listening to the approaching noise with both concern and hope. Putting down what they were doing the others drew their weapons, Michonne putting aside the dead chicken she had been plucking in favour of her katana. Their tension was short lived, for a few moments later the minivan appeared around the far side of the house, the sight letting everyone begin to relax. However no one quite breathed a sigh of relief until the minivan came to a stop nearby and the occupants got out. Rick, Daryl, Abraham and Aaron…they had all returned safely.

"You ever get used to waiting?" Carrie asked, seeing how visibly relieved Carl was.

Looking at his father for a moment longer, Carl shook his head any bent down to retrieve the next item of wet clothing. Awkwardly shuffling further down the line, he began to hang it. "He stopped going on runs when we were at the prison. It was nice."

"Nice having him around?"

Carl shook his head. "No, he was always around anyway. It was just nice not waiting for him to get back."

Understanding where he was coming from, Carrie dropped the subject. Working in comfortable silence, she and Carl made quick work of the wet clothing, and she watched Rick from the corner of his eye. Having been in to the small city, she wondered if he had found any condoms there, if that was why he was smiling, the occurrence rare enough that others took note. Resting the empty washing basket against her hip, Carrie checked on the clothing to make sure it was secured before she and Carl started heading back for the bunker, thinking of the towels that were currently in the washing machine.

"Carl," Rick called out, jogging over to the barn to catch up with them. "Wait a sec…have you-"

"Yeah," he cut him off, gesturing to his leg. "Glenn changed the dressings while you were gone."

Slowing to a stop, Rick gave a slow nod, his eyes darting over to Carrie. "How did the wounds look?"

"No pus or anything, same as always."

"Good," Rick muttered, scratching the coarse hair on his jaw. He glanced at Carrie again, looking surprisingly shy. For a moment she wondered if he was going to ask her for a moment alone, but perhaps he thought better of it, particularly with Carl standing right there. "Alright…"

Their afternoon progressed quickly, everyone grateful to have clean clothes to put in their pack. Even Daryl seemed pleased to be putting on clean clothing, though he refused to let Carrie wash his leather vest.

"Don't worry, Carrie," Michonne started, leaning back in her chair. The twelve of them were now cramped into the underground bunker, balancing plates of roasted chicken and vegetables on their laps as they ate. Indulging themselves, they'd even prepared some powdered gravy. "That vest is very special to Daryl…and Carol is the only woman who gets to touch his special things."

The group roared with laughter, Daryl's expression souring as he tossed a chicken bone at Michonne. Utilising a few choice words, he threw a piece of sweet potato at her next, rolling his eyes when she deftly caught it in her mouth.

"Is Carol your special friend?" Carrie asked innocently, unable to help herself. Just as he had been that afternoon, Daryl was fairly easy to wind up.

"No. It ain't like that," he grunted, looking embarrassed. "I just know better than to argue with her, that's all," he said, directing this to the rest of the group.

While everyone continued laughing at his expense, beside her Aidan politely took her empty plate, stacking it on top of his own. "If those two are friends," he commented lowly, referring to Daryl and Carol. "Then they're the strangest friends I've ever seen."

As Aidan began collecting the empty plates and enlisting Nicholas to help him clean up, Carrie lingered a little while longer before getting up. No longer able to hear the sound of the dryer running, she headed into the other room to finish the last of the laundry. Taking the dry sleeping bag out, she opened the washing machine and moved the next into the dryer. Feeling immensely satisfied that she was on top of it all, she turned on the dryer again and added the final sleeping bags to the washing machine, exalting in how nice it would be tomorrow night when they were camping again. Although they would be on the side of the road or sleeping in the cars, little luxuries like clean clothing and bedding definitely made for better morale, particularly when they were dealing with cabin fever.

The door to the store room opened suddenly, but Carrie didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Her heart was speeding up already, a nervous tension filling her as she realised he had probably followed her in here with a purpose, that they were both alone. Taking a slow breath she turned around and looked at Rick, still holding the clean sleeping bag in her hands. Closing the door behind himself there was a long moment in which they just looked at each other, Rick having a distinct air of nervousness.

"Hello," she greeted him.

"Hello."

"Dinner was nice," she said awkwardly, seeing his uncertainty. "It-"

"Yeah, dinner was great," he muttered, suddenly striding over to her. "I got them," he said shortly, getting straight to the point.

"You did?" she asked, breathing a visible sigh of relief. She smiled, the nervous tension of waiting for him to come and tell her fading. "Good."

"You still want to?" he asked her seriously, looking her in the eye.

Taking advantage of their privacy, she stepped closer and brought her lips to his. It was a relief to be kissing him again, feeling as though their time alone that morning had been a life time ago, and so they took advantage of their chance. Letting go of the sleeping bag, she wound her arms around his shoulders, moaning softly as he kissed her back. She could taste the gravy they had eaten with dinner, the sweetness of it encouraging her to take more of him, to properly taste his lips. Anticipation for their night together grew…they were so close to it that she could practically feel it already, her mind soon to be completely preoccupied.

"Okay then," he whispered slowly.

"Should I volunteer for watch tonight?" she asked breathlessly, brushing her lips across his again.

Though he began holding her at arms length, he greedily kissed her back. "No," he finally answered. "Let me take care of it…just go to bed with the others."

"Alright."

"Where are you sleeping?" As he asked this, he took his hands off her and pointedly took a step back, putting some distance between them. She watched as he nervously scratched his short beard, his tongue siding along his bottom lip.

Clearing her throat, Carrie swooped down and picked up the sleeping bag, resuming her former task of rolling it up. "I think I'm sharing the double bed with Michonne and Rosita."

"I have first watch," he told her looking annoyed. "I'll come and get you when I'm done. Abe's going to take over at two o'clock."

"Does he know?"

Apologetic, he nodded. "I had to tell him, sorry."

"It's alright," she assured him. "Someone should know where we are."

There was a short pause, the two of them standing before one another with their plans fully laid out. Looking at him, amused by his louder than normal breathing, Carrie waited for anxiousness to set in, for her to start doubting this decision. But none came…she felt nothing except the type of nervous excitement one would naturally expect. Christ, she felt like she was going to Disney Land or something…she supposed in some way she was.

"Carrie, you can ch-"

"I'm not going to change my mind," she told him, hoping her excited smile was enough to finally reassure him. When he nodded, trying to restrain his own smile, she tucked the rolled up sleeping bag under her arm and stepped towards him. "See you tonight."

He dodged the kiss she tried to give him, even though it was only a peck on the cheek. Stepping right back from her, he slipped his hands into his jean pockets as he gave her a look of exasperation.

"Oh, is that how it is?" she teased, pretending to be affronted by his rejection.

"It is if I have to walk back out there in thirty seconds."

Curious, she held his gaze for a moment before dropping it down, peering at the front of his jeans to see what effect their brief kisses had on him. But with only one working light bulb in the laundry and storage room, there was little she could see except shadows. Deciding it was probably best to leave him be, she gave him what she hoped was an alluring smile and she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Get that smile off your face."

She laughed at him under her breath, but followed his instructions to the letter, fixing an expression of mild boredom on her face as she came out to the others. The kitchen was in full swing, some of the group cleaning up after dinner while the others set about preparing food they could easily transport with them for the rest of the journey. Easily slipping straight into the mix, Carrie tried not to think about what was going to happen that night, suspecting no one would believe she was that excited by Aaron's poor attempt at bread making.

As their activities wound down over the next few hours, Rick and Aaron heading off to take first watch, Carrie was the only one not looking forward to the prospect of sleeping in the comfortable beds. After almost two weeks of darting around one another, both denying their attraction to one another, she and Rick were finally acting on it, finally indulging themselves. While two weeks ago the thought of sex would have sent a horrible shiver down her spine, so much had changes since then. Granger's sudden reappearance was but a hiccup in this new stage of her life, albeit a rather confronting one. Since the outbreak, she had often felt secure with her other groups, despite often not having anyone to depend on. While she had always felt secure, this was the first time she had actually felt safe, both with a group, and with someone of the opposite sex. As she slid into the double bed alongside Michonne and Rosita, Carl stretching out to sleep at the foot, her excitement grew, and there was another thing that she was immensely grateful for that night.

She had remembered to shave her legs.

* * *

The night was frustratingly dark, heavy clouds hovering overhead and blocking all the moonlight. Rick could feel the heaviness of the air, knowing that tomorrow would bring rain, perhaps even a thunder storm, but tonight the clouds brought nothing but inconvenience. Normally those on watch might be able to enjoy a light hearted chat, a game of cards even, but not tonight. With visibility so poor, they depended entirely on their hearing to detect approaching Walkers. God knows there were enough of them hanging around. They'd only been on watch three hours, but Rick and Aaron had taken out seven of them as they came shuffling across the ranch, heading no where in particular.

Increasingly frustrated by the watch, Rick wished that it wasn't a necessity night after night. Given that on this particular night they were all sleeping underground, shouldn't that mean they could take the night off? Although the thought was appealing, especially given Rick's plans involving Carrie, they couldn't take the risk. The fewer Walkers that they allowed to swarm the area, the better. Not only that, but they had three cars and two large trucks of supplies and weapons they needed to protect. Other survivors could pass through at any time of the day or night, and they needed to be prepared.

When Rick had voiced this need, he had immediately regretted it. Somehow, vocalising the problem had led to him accidentally volunteering himself for the first watch. To his relief, however, Abraham volunteered to take the shift following Rick's, sharing a meaningful look that indicated he would still have the opportunity to sneak away with Carrie.

"You still remember what to do with them?" Abraham teased, he and Rick standing side by side in the kitchen. In an act that they hoped went undetected, Abraham discreetly passed Rick a square foil packet.

"I'll figure it out," he quipped, keeping his face straight. Slipping the condom into his pocket, he frowned as he ran his fingers over the foil. "Three?"

"I've got faith in you."

"You sure you can spare that many?" he joked.

Abraham nodded. "I got no use for 'em right now…God damn crimson curse."

Rick gratefully shoved them right down to the bottom of his pocket. Paranoid, he felt like everyone must be looking at him, somehow knowing what he had. Forcing himself to relax he glanced down at his pocket, checking that nothing could be seen through the denim.

"Daryl and I will take over watch at two o'clock…just let me know when and where you're sneaking off to, alright?"

"I will," he nodded, thinking hard. Although the house probably still reeked of Walkers and the dead man's corpse, it was more private than the office in the barn, and he wasn't even going to consider the horse stalls. He knew that Carrie deserved more than a quick fuck in a stranger's house that reeked of death…but at least there was a bed.

Rick then spent the rest of the night trying to get a moment alone with Carrie, just one lousy moment. He needed to tell her that he had what she asked for, that if she still wanted to, they could sneak away and make good use of the condoms. As they finished their meal he finally found the opportunity, seeing her heading into the store room to keep working on the laundry. Discreetly making a disappearance, he followed her in and closed the door, praying that Carl didn't notice. Having made their plans, they kissed until Rick finally had to resist her, the front of his jeans begin to tighten a little. He then lingered only to check that she definitely wanted this, though he questioned why he kept asking. Her answer each time was confident and assured, and he trusted her to tell him the truth.

Coming back to the present, Rick looked at his watch and tried to make out the time in the dark, quickly giving up. Cold, he shrugged his blanket higher around his neck and tucked his hands back inside, knowing that the exact time didn't matter. Trying to focus on keeping watch and not on his growing nerves, Rick sighed and looked around, wishing there was just a little more moonlight to see by. He was filled with nervous energy and wanted to be up and doing something, doing Carrie in particular, and yet he was stuck on watch.

"Something on your mind?" Aaron asked quietly.

"No."

"Okay. You're just doing an awful lot of sighing."

Rick went to sigh again, but stopped himself. Instead he readjusted his position, pulling his knees up to his chest and putting his arms around them. It was marginally warmer this way, but this thought did little to occupy his mind.

Everything was set for their night…he had condoms, and Carrie was more than willing. But Rick couldn't shake the strange feeling of guilt he had developed over the last few days, starting after their brief tryst in the minivan. He struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was that was bothering him…unsure of where it was coming from. Certainly he had accepted Lori's death, and he knew that she would want him to move on. That's what they had always wanted for one another, to find some kind of happiness in the event that one of them died. But it wasn't his late wife he felt guilty about…hell, it wasn't even Carl.

The rational part of him knew that he wasn't taking advantage of Carrie. God knows he had made sure of this. Regardless of what had happened to her, Carrie was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. Yet still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong. Any minute now someone would figure out what was going on, and surely they would scold him for such desires. He shouldn't be thinking about something as gratuitous and indulgent as sex…he should be thinking about how to get his group safely back to Alexandria, not about Carrie. Besides, he was far too old for her…it was wrong.

He was suddenly met with a startling realisation. He wasn't that much older than her…he was thirty eight, and she was thirty three. She seemed so much younger than her age, or perhaps he felt older than his. Either way, a five year age gap was not something to feel guilty about. Hell, Abraham was almost twenty years older than Rosita, and they didn't seem to care. Laughing to himself silently, Rick tried to see reason. He doubted that Carrie was laying in bed worried about a five year age gap. In fact, he doubted she was worried about anything to do with that night at all. It had only been two weeks, and he knew her well enough to know the absolute certainty with which she approached her life. She denied she was always certain of things, but that's not how she came across.

"There," Aaron said suddenly, sitting up a little straighter. Shrugging his blanket off his shoulders, he pointed towards Rick's left. "I can hear something."

Acting quickly, Rick found their large spotlight and turned it on, carefully scanning the area indicated. Letting Aaron take the rifle, he focused the light on the Walker and kept it steady. About twenty yards away, the Walker slowly turned it's head towards the light source, swaying as its interest was aroused. Aaron took it down before it could do much more than snarl, the sound from the rifle making Rick jump a little. Though the silencer was in use, the shot was still had volume, especially given the absolute silence in which they had basked for the last few hours.

Using the spotlight, they scanned the immediate area again to be absolutely sure. Before turning the light off, Rick checked his watch to see the time, noting that it was a little after midnight. Still thinking of Carrie, he pulled the blanket back over his shoulders and got warm, wondering if she was awake right now. He had promised Abraham he would wait for him to take over watch, so that he could keep an eye on the house and cover for them if anyone came looking…but couldn't Aaron do that? Surely he could trust Aaron to be discreet. Rick could wake Carrie up now and slip away together…Aaron wouldn't mind being left on his own.

"Aidan's already planning the next supply run," Aaron commented quietly, his voice just above a whisper. "A little closer to home though."

"What's he looking for?" Rick whispered back, a little glad for the distraction.

"Some more rain water tanks. Deanna wants to get every household running off their own water supply, so that we're not depending on the dam forever."

"Smart."

"Yeah…" Aaron trailed off, his knee bouncing restlessly. "We were thinking of maybe setting up some kind of warehouse for the larger supplies and equipment. You know, things like water tanks…building materials. There's an empty distribution centre about three miles away."

"Sounds good."

"Yeah."

Feeling bad for his lack of enthusiasm, Rick tried to think of something interesting to add. "When do you think you'll be back recruiting?"

"Soon, hopefully."

"I suppose you'll have to wait for Eric to get back on his feet," he commented, remembering his broken ankle.

There was an awkward silence, Aaron turning his head to look at Rick critically. "Yes," he said slowly, sounding as though he wanted to say something else. He cleared his throat, continuing. "Any tips? You know, for when I introduce myself to the next recruits?"

"Don't do it," Rick said automatically.

Laughing quietly, Aaron shook his head. "You really don't trust anyone, do you…"

"No."

"You told Deanna to keep the gates shut…to not let anyone else in."

"Yes."

Aaron sighed, no doubt giving Rick's advice consideration. "I understand where you're coming from…recruiting can sometimes be a little hit and miss."

"Deanna said she's exiled three people. Were they people you brought in?"

"Two of them were," Aaron admitted regretfully. "That was before I started watching people in secret…I learnt from that."

"Good."

There was an awkward pause again. "Well anyway…thanks for the advice."

Detecting his sarcasm, Rick laughed under his breath. "Alright, advice." He pondered this for a moment, thinking back to the day he had first met Aaron, remembering his skepticism. "Next time? Just eat the damn apple sauce."

Echoing his quiet laugh, Aaron shrugged apologetically. "I'll give you this much, Rick. You're about the only man I know who can be intimidating with a baby in one hand, and a spoon in the other."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Laughing again, Aaron raised his hand and held out his pinky finger. "Judith has got you wrapped around her little finger, you know."

Smiling, Rick nodded in agreement. "Ain't much use denying it."

"Tomorrow at Walmart, once we've got the essentials, I know exactly where you'll go."

"Do you now?"

"Baby section. Rick Grimes, looking for bows and frilly dresses."

"There'll be no frilly dresses on my daughter. And besides…first thing is to get Carl some new jeans."

Aaron groaned, no doubt thinking about the following day. "I need DVDs…Greys Anatomy, Dr Who…What are you getting for yourself?"

Rick shrugged, having not thought about this. "There's nothing I need."

"Ahh…a man of simple pleasures?"

Thinking of Carrie, Rick shook his head. "No…not always simple."

The short conversation had helped Rick relax a little, and the final part of their watch shift passed a little more quickly. A break in the clouds gave Rick just enough moonlight to see what the time was, the incremental update giving him hope that he wouldn't be sitting on top of the removal truck forever. Finally two o'clock began drawing nearer, and as he always was, Daryl was a little early, the click of his cigarette lighter announcing his arrival. Rick tried to keep his face straight, knowing there was only so much delight he could show at someone turning up to take over watch.

"Hey," Daryl grunted, adjusting his crossbow on his back. He fumbled for a moment, holding his cigarette between his lips as he zipped up his jacket. "Anythin'?"

"Seven," Rick answered.

"Eight," Aaron corrected.

Nodding, Daryl clicked his fingers at Aaron and told him to come down. "Gimme that," he grunted, taking the rifle and checking that it was loaded. He looked up as Aaron said something to him, a frown crossing Daryl's face. For a brief moment he glanced up at Rick and then quickly looked away, muttering something inaudible.

"Good night," Aaron said, raising his hand as he headed for the bunker. "I'll tell Abraham to get a move on."

"Good night," Rick echoed, but his attention was focused on Daryl. He took note of the way he avoided his gaze, making him wonder what was going on…what Aaron had said to him? "Everything alright?"

"Mmm."

There was an awkward silence, making their encounter even stranger. Daryl made no move to join Rick up on top of the removal truck's cabin…but maybe he was just waiting to finish his cigarette…he was considerate like that.

"I'm gon' take a walk," Daryl suddenly declared, seeing that Abraham was about to join them. "Check the perimeter."

"Stay safe," Rick said, the words automatically falling from his lips as though the request would keep Daryl from harm.

"Mmm."

Trying not to dwell on Daryl's strange behaviour, Rick instead felt himself getting nervous. Abraham was coming to take over watch…he and Carrie would be free to run off and do as they pleased. Suppressing the stupid smile that wanted to take over his face, he patted his hand against his pocket and made sure the condoms were still there, as if they were somehow going to disappear.

"Daryl's gone for a walk," he told Abraham as he climbed down the ladder. "And we took down eight Walkers."

Yawning, Abraham pulled a face. "Yeah, I can smell the bastards. Beautiful." Rick passed over the spotlight and rifle, but Abraham refused the latter. "Take that with you," he said, opening the removal truck door. From behind the seats he retrieved another, slinging that over his shoulder instead. "Just in case. Make sure Carrie has a weapon too."

Though he had already planned for this, Rick nodded his head and put the rifle over his shoulder. "Have a good night."

"You too," Abraham winked, smirking to himself as he ascended the ladder to the top of the cabin. "Make sure she comes first!"

Cringing at the volume of Abraham's voice, Rick groaned internally…as if he didn't have enough to worry about already. Taking a few deep breaths he headed for the underground bunker, willing himself to not give away how nervous he was beginning to feel, nor how much he wanted this. Though the feelings of guilt had been shaken off by the brief conversation with Aaron, now came the nervous anticipation, the excitement of sneaking off with a beautiful woman for a quick screw. God, so long as Carl wasn't awake, it would happen. He wouldn't put it past his son to be awake, to unknowingly be keeping his father from the first thing that had brought him a sense of excitement in a long time.

Entering the bunker, Rick descended the metal stairs very slowly, not wanting his boots to echo. Thankfully the heavy door didn't squeak as he stepped inside, and the carpets disguised his footsteps as he entered the living room. It was warm and cosy under ground, Aaron already fast asleep on the couch that Daryl had previously occupied. A single light in the kitchen was lit, providing enough light that they could see well enough in the event that something went wrong. Creeping about, Rick found his pack and retrieved his toothbrush and a clean shirt. He had showered that afternoon, but for Carrie he would go to the effort of putting another clean shirt on. Tobin occupied the other couch in the living room, and checking that he too was sleeping, Rick crept into the bunker's small bathroom. As he cleaned his teeth he scrutinised his appearance, wishing he didn't look so damn tired. Hoping to rectify that issue, he splashed some water over his face, cringing at how cold it was.

Finishing up, he briefly returned to the living room and put his things away, glancing at the third empty couch where he ought to be sleeping. If Tobin or Aaron woke during the night, would they question where he was? Or would they simply put his absence down to Rick being Rick? Rationally, he knew the only person he had to worry about catching him was Carl…but if any of the others noticed and had a big mouth about it, Carl would find out. Throwing all caution to the wind, Rick headed towards the bedroom door where he knew Carrie was sleeping, but he hesitated at the last moment. If Carl was awake, he would question why Rick was coming in there. Though the explanation that he was just checking on things would be accepted by his son, would Carl go straight back to sleep? Once he opened this door, there was no going back…

His heart pounding, Rick opened the door and hovered in the threshold for a moment, a stream of light trickling in from the kitchen. As his eyes adjusted, Rick ran them over the three bunk beds where Aidan, Nicholas and Glenn were sleeping before allowing himself to creep into the room a little more. To his right was the queen sized bed where Carrie, Michonne and Rosita were sharing. It was cramped, and there was little head room with the cupboards over head, but Carl had been delegated the spot at the end of the bed. He was presently curled up in his sleeping bag, Michonne's feet digging into his back while they all slept. Rick could tell he was uncomfortable…Carl normally slept on his back, laid straight out like a solider standing to attention.

Confident that Carl was asleep, Rick moved to the other end of the bed, relieved to see that it was Carrie asleep closest to the edge. Even in the near darkness he could make out the shape of her body beneath the blankets, and he could see her long blonde hair. Careful not to startle her, he placed his hand on her shoulder and let it rest there. The slight weight was all she needed to rouse, half awake in anticipation of him coming to get her. She turned over to face him, letting out a slow breath as she recognised who it was.

Moving very slowly so as to not wake anyone, Carrie awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed and took her boots when Rick passed them over. Tying the laces, she looked over her shoulder and slowly stood, freezing as Michonne rolled over. Rick too froze, his grip on Carrie's hand tightening as Michonne opened her eyes and looked at them. To his surprise however, Carrie just grinned and put her finger to her lips, making a request that she not say anything. There was a moment of tension as Rick waited, but Michonne just raised her head and looked to the foot of the bed where Carl was asleep. Appearing to shrug, she stretched her arms out to occupy the space where Carrie had slept, taking the extra blankets and curling up in them.

Without preamble, Rick led Carrie out of the bedroom and carefully closed the door behind them. In the dim light he could see her face properly, revelling in the eagerness in her eyes. Any doubts and nerves of his own began to recede, reassured by her apparent confidence. Her hands resting on the front of his shoulders, Carrie lightly kissed his cheek before taking a step back from him.

"Give me a minute," she whispered softly.

Nodding, he kissed brushed his lips across hers before letting her go. While she headed into the bathroom, Rick turned on his heel and went to the dining room table where their weapons were laid out. With very little room in the bedrooms, everyone had left their weapons on the table, and so Rick carefully looked through them to find the Ruger SR9 and the snub nosed revolver he had given her days ago. Moving as silently as possible he laid them out on the kitchen bench along with her holster, heading back to the living room to look for her jacket. Laying that out on the kitchen bench too, Rick took a moment of pause, thinking. She'd been gone less than a minute, but already her absence was making him nervous, drawing out the hardest part of all this…getting started.

When he heard a door opening Rick turned around with a smile of relief, but barely a second later his heart plummeted. The wrong door had opened, and instead of Carrie coming out to him, it was Carl. His heart pounded, certain that Carl had figured out everything, that he somehow knew what was going on. Trying to keep his expression neutral, Rick held his breath as Carl slowly shuffled out of the bedroom, his head low as he yawned widely. He didn't look like an enraged teenager who had figured out his dad was going to sleep with someone…in fact, in the middle of night he often resembled one of the Walkers they had to protect themselves from. Limping without his crutches, Carl yawned and scratched his lower back.

"Hey," he grunted, walking straight past him and going for the kitchen sink. Taking a clean glass from the draining rack, he filled it up from the sink. "Finished watch?"

"Yeah," Rick replied. Breathing in slowly he tried to act casually, praying that Carl didn't notice Carrie's jacket and weapon on the kitchen bench.

To make the situation worse, the other door opened now, Carrie slowly appearing in the threshold. She moved silently, a tentative smile on her face until she looked up and saw Carl. Looking between the two of them, Rick waited with bated breath for something to happen, for Carl to turn around and see her, for him to start questioning what he had walked in on. Thankfully he still stood at the kitchen sink, taking a long drink of water. Carrie on the other hand seemed to be mid panic, her expression one of great alarm as she hovered in the doorway, unsure of what to do. She looked relieved when he waved a hand at her, ushering her back the way she had come, and she disappeared a split second later. Looking back at Carl who was rinsing his glass, Rick fixed himself an expression of mild interest combined with exhaustion…he added a yawn when Carl turned around.

"You alright?" he asked softly, seeing Carl rolling his shoulder.

Carl shrugged, rubbing his hands across his face as he started shuffling back to the bedroom. "Michonne was kicking me earlier," he complained.

"Oh."

Carl paused, looking over his shoulder at Rick. "Where's Carrie?"

"Carrie?"

"Yeah. She's not in bed."

Taking care to keep his voice even, Rick answered, "I think she's gone for a walk…I just passed her when I came down."

Accepting this, Carl nodded and started limping back towards the bedroom. "G'night," he yawned.

Rick breathed a sigh of relief as the bedroom door closed, feeling his heart rate begin to slow down again. There was a long pause, the silence allowing Rick to catch his breath again. When Carrie tentatively looked out she bowed her head in relief, silently laughing as she came out.

"I thought we were busted," she whispered.

"Me too," he admitted darkly, holding her jacket out and helping her slip it on.

Clenching his hands into the collar of her jacket he kissed her fiercely, revelling in the soft moan she made against his lips, in the taste of the toothpaste she had just used. Leaving it at that he let her go, his hands trailing down her arms before zipping up her jacket. He smirked at the way she caught her breath, her fingers coming up to touch her lips as he busied himself getting her weapons organised. Crouching down, he slipped her leg holster around her upper thigh where she liked to wear it, glancing up at her as he secured the straps in place. Slowly standing, he looked her in the eye as he trailed his fingers up the front of her leg, securing the final strap through the belt loop on her jeans.

Clicking her Ruger into the holster, Rick took her revolver next, opening the chamber and showing her that it was unloaded just the way she liked it. Reaching around her, he pulled at the back of her jeans and slipped the gun in, feeling her breath against his chin as they stood less than an inch apart. He resisted the urge to kiss her again, wanting to draw it out for as long as possible. He slipped some rounds into the pocket of her jacket for her, closing the zip and then ushering her out of the kitchen. She resisted for a moment, her hands drifting up to his shoulders as she tried to bring him close for another kiss. Indulging her, he met her lips again, the sensuality of it completely washing away any inhibitions that remained. The way she pressed herself against him threatened to push him over the edge, for he already longed to have her immediately, to simply lay her down on the kitchen floor and take her there.

Sighing, he forced himself to break their kiss. "We have to go," he panted, taking his wandering hands off her.

He slipped his hand into hers and led her through the living room, breathing a sigh of relief when the main door opened with minimal noise. Letting Carrie go up first, Rick lingered for a moment to make absolutely sure that no one had detected their departure before following her up. Cheekily, he reached out and slid his hand over her ass as they ascended the stairs, eliciting what sounded like an embarrassed giggle from her. Passing through the open trap door she stood and waited for him, seeking him out the very moment he reached the top. Still laughing, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

Her light hearted demeanour both aroused and relaxed him at the same time, putting him even more at ease after the awkward encounter with Carl. Going with the flow, he amorously let his hands explore her body as they stood there in the centre of the barn, surrounded by dried up horse shit and stale hay. What he was feeling was indescribable, and he knew it was more than simply being turned on…in the back of his mind lingered the feeling of happiness, of being content.

"Unless you want to lay down here in the horse shit, we need to go," he laughed softly, prying her hands from underneath his shirt.

Joining hands again, they fell into step alongside one another as they left the barn and emerged into the cool night. Consciously aware that Daryl was hanging around somewhere checking the perimeter, Rick tried to keep his hands to himself as they walked, though he couldn't say as much for Carrie. She walked closer to him than necessary, their legs brushing against one another as she let go of his hand and slid hers around his lower back, slipping her thumb through the belt loop. Automatically mimicking this gesture, he slid his arm about her waist and leant over, tenderly pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead. Even in the poor light, he could see that he had made her smile.

A sense of urgency came over the two of them now, and Carrie started to pick up the pace of their brisk walk, making him wonder if he'd have to stop her breaking out into a run. He didn't blame her…frankly he was holding himself back from sprinting, not wanting to lose what breath he had left right now. Restraining themselves as much as they could, they swiftly came past the vehicles, neither of them acknowledging Abraham on top of the removal truck. But in true style, he didn't afford them the same courtesy.

"God damn lucky bastard…"

* * *

A/N Chapter 33 preview ... "How do you like your eggs in the morning?"


	33. Chapter 33

A/N Okay, so the long awaited chapter where Rick and Carrie enjoy a cup of tea and friendly debate about politics.

I'm obviously kidding, you know what this is. Warnings apply of course, so don't read if you don't like. That said, AngieB assures me it's a tastefully written chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Carrie's excitement began the moment Rick woke her, anticipation blooming with the touch of his hand on her shoulder. She awoke instantly, and without thinking twice she slipped on her shoes and eagerly followed him. Not even Carl's ill timed interruption was going to put a stop to their night together. Yet as her excitement grew, so too did her nerves. Carrie's insecurities and self doubt waged a war inside her head, but she forced them down. Just because she was nervous didn't mean she wasn't ready for this, for Rick. They weren't going steady, but even though they were only two friends fooling around, it wasn't impersonal either.

As the two of them held hands and started heading for the ranch house, Carrie took comfort in the knowledge that while she was nervous about this, she wasn't afraid of making herself vulnerable to Rick. He'd already proven that he was a man worthy of her trust, that he cared for her in a way that allowed her to push that trust even further. Squashing her nerves and letting her confidence take its place, she took a few deep breaths and focused instead on the way they walked together in perfect sync, enjoying the feeling of his arm around her waist. By the time they reached the ranch house, she was fit to implode, her heart racing with excitement the longer this whole thing was drawn out. Though it hadn't been more than a hundred yards to walk, it felt like a mile, her frustrations only worsened by Rick's apparent level headedness. He slowed as they reached the back porch, regretfully taking his hand from her waist and fumbling for something on his duty belt.

"Here," he said, handing her his flashlight before taking out a smaller one for himself.

"What's this for?"

"We need to clear the house again," he apologised, softening the delay with a kiss.

Knowing he was right, for all the doors and windows had been left open to air it out, Carrie grumbled as she took the flashlight and turned it on. "I hate that you're so responsible."

The house still reeked of death, and she cringed when the flashlight passed over the blood spatter on the ceiling from where the ranch owner had killed himself. Ignoring this, she took out her knife and held it ready, she and Rick momentarily splitting up. While he headed off down the hallway to check the bedrooms, she swept through the living areas and checked every corner, cheerfully whistling to get the attention of anything not living. Nothing rose up in the darkness to attack her, and she was alone except for her shadow. Satisfied in only one sense, she holstered her knife and headed back to where they had left one another, impatiently listening to Rick's footsteps. Finally the beam of his flashlight was visible down the hallway, and he promptly returned to where she was waiting for him.

"All clear?" she asked, entertaining his need to be sure.

He didn't answer, at least not verbally anyway. Holstering his gun and putting the small flashlight away, he marched straight over to where she waited and promptly kissed her. Amused by his eagerness, Carrie melted into his embrace as they kissed, her chest beginning to ache until she turned her head and gasped for breath. Panting, she kissed him again as she felt her nervousness fading now that they were actually getting started. Her body was aching for this, needing to finally have him naked against her after all this time. Impatient to get started, she slipped her hands inside his jacket and started pushing it over his shoulders.

Helping her, he shrugged his jacket off and let it fall. "Bedroom," he said roughly, his lips barely leaving hers.

"Classier than the kitchen floor?"

He laughed in amusement, pressing his teeth into her bottom lip. The gesture made her sigh in delight, her skin hypersensitive already. "It smells slightly better."

Letting him lead the way, they headed down the hallway and into the master bedroom, their journey made all that more difficult by their reluctance to let go of one another, to break apart for even a moment. When they went inside Rick had to physically pry her arms away from him, and so Carrie took a deep breath, trying to be patient. Although they had plenty of time, there was a real and genuine sense of urgency…she wanted this now.

"Be patient," he scolded, as if he could actually read her thoughts.

"Can't…it's not my virtue."

"I see that," he grinned, stepping back from her.

Ever responsible, he closed the bedroom door and then turned the lock on the handle, heading across the room to the wide open windows. Letting him close them, Carrie rested the flashlight on a chest of drawers so that it illuminated the room and then turned her attention to the bed. Despite all that had happened here at this ranch house, the bed was neatly made, and the array of decorative pillows were sent flying as she wrenched back the blankets. Rick rolled his eyes as he watched the pillows scatter.

"Come on," she prompted him breathlessly.

Pulling off her jacket, she knelt on the edge of the bed and looked him in the eye, making her request perfectly clear. She couldn't be any more direct than that. His attention distracted by her, he left the curtains open as he followed her request. But instead of joining her on the bed, he came around to her side, shaking his head when she started lifting her shirt. He reached for her arm and gently tugged, ushering her back to her feet. Kissing her urgently, he slid his hands to her hips as he led her away from the bed and over to the wall.

Like everything else in this world, it wasn't perfect by any means. In their haste to simply get at each other, their teeth knocked clumsily, their hands fumbling. She could feel his erection pressing against her through his jeans, and her hands automatically began reaching for his belt, trying to find the buckle. Rick suddenly stopped, dragging his lips away from hers before grabbing her hands. He was panting for breath as he pushed them away, and it took all she had to not yell in frustration…what was he doing? She looked at him incredulously. They stood there panting for breath, neither of them touching the other as she waited.

"I swear to God," she growled, unable to help herself. "If you ask me if I'm sure…"

Her threat trailed off when she saw the corners of Rick's mouth curving into a smile. Moving slowly now, he leant in and kissed her slowly, coaxing an equally slow response from her. He sighed as they kissed, taking their time with one another as their racing hearts began to settle. The slower pace gave them both a chance to catch their breath, for Carrie to collect her wits. Enjoying the new pace, she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him back closer, revelling in the way he pressed against her. There was no need to rush, and he certainly wasn't going anywhere.

"Better," he whispered, beginning to drag his lips across her cheek.

She just nodded, closing her eyes as his beard scratched against her skin. Suppressing any lingering urgency, Carrie closed her eyes and let him enjoy her, feeling drunk with desire. Her hands trembled as she dragged them down his front, slowly opening the buttons on his shirt. Eager to touch him, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and then dragged her hands down the front of his chest, feeling the heat emanating from his skin.

At first he lurched back from her cold hands, laughing off her apology before he let her pull him back. Her hands brushing over his back, she held him tightly as she felt his muscles flexing beneath her palms, and the moan she gave when he started kissing her neck was embarrassingly loud. Just like he had done in the car the other night, he kissed her lusciously, his tongue and teeth surely leaving another mark on the curve of her neck. She squirmed in delight, a heady gasp passing her lips as shivers ran down her body. Did he have any idea how good that felt? He must have some idea, for he slowly switched to the other side of her neck, going about the same process there too.

"Rick," she began, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his head up to her. "Come on. Please."

Apparently much more in control than she was, his hands were steady and methodical as they slid down her front. She held her breath as he brushed over the peak of her legs, hoping that he would stop there, that he would help ease the growing ache he had caused. To her disappointment however, his hands kept moving lower. Feeling him caressing her thigh, it took her a moment to figure out what he was doing. The strap around her leg came loose, the gun and holster dangling as Rick carefully draped it over the chest of drawers to his left. In no time at all they were both divested of their weapons, their knives, machetes and guns sitting on the chest of drawers with the flashlight.

Still amused by how responsible and level headed he was being, Carrie's hands dove for the front of his jeans, resuming her former task. Always vigilant, he wore his duty belt at all times…but not if she had anything to say about it. Unfastening the buckle, she pulled the leather belt free and let it slip down his hips, allowing it to fall to the floor with a loud clatter. He laughed quietly, his expression making her think he was about to say something. He seemed to reconsider though, shaking his head as he let her go about her task of opening his regular belt. She shucked his jeans down over his hips, her fingers hooking under the top of his underwear and pushing that down too. She heard his sharp intake of breath, her fingers teasing his lower stomach as she wished there was just a little more light.

Pausing only long enough to warm them first, she gently smoothed her hands over his erection. Rick's breath hitched the moment she touched him, his chest heaving as she rubbed her hands up and down, a few tentative squeezes making his eyes roll back and a moan stir in the base of his throat. Having spent days thinking about this, she wasn't disappointed by what she could feel in her hands, nor his reactions. He eagerly stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on the top of her arms. Keeping her touches smooth and gentle, she gauged his responses as she began to learn what he liked.

"Like this?" she enquired, enjoying the expression on his face.

Letting his forehead come down to rest against hers, he answered. "Yes," he rasped. Swallowing heavily, he rocked his hips forward to aid her. "You can…harder," he requested, kissing her neck again.

A flicker of relief stirred inside her. Rick wasn't messing around…he wasn't too immature or embarrassed to tell her what he wanted. That knowledge furthered her own confidence, spurring her on to fulfil his request. He gave her a few rasps of approval, his breath coming in short bursts as he raised his hands to her head. His fingers trailed down the length of her braid and found the band around the end, pulling it free. Furthering the notion that he liked her long hair, his fingers dragged themselves through the long tresses and freed them from each other.

Something made him stop, his body tensing up as he turned and looked to his right. Stopping what she was doing, Carrie too froze, wondering what was wrong. Her heart began to sink as she heard a distinct creak coming from the porch outside the bedroom window, announcing that they were not alone.

"Walker?"

Rick shook his head, his mouth furrowing into a grimace as there was another creak…followed by another. "Fucking Daryl," he growled in frustration.

"How do you know?"

"He's on watch."

There was the faint clicking sounds that often accompanied Daryl, coming from his cigarette lighter. They heard him fumble and swear as he kept clicking, his lighter almost out of fluid. Biting her lip, Carrie looked at the window. It was closed, but in his haste Rick hadn't drawn the curtains, distracted by her attempts to make him hurry up. If Daryl could see the light from the flashlight, would he come and look into the window? She pictured the scene in her head, and suddenly she couldn't contain herself. Trying to be quiet, she started laughing. Rick on the other hand, simply looked at her in horror.

Shaking his head, he groaned as he returned his lips to her jaw. "Don't laugh at a man when his trousers are down," he told her, his teeth nipping at her skin.

Carrie laughed even more now, Rick hastening to stifle it with his lips. Groaning softly, he took her in a lush kiss that drowned out all of her laughter, almost making her forget that Daryl was outside the window, able to discover them at any moment. Rick however, seemed unconcerned, and seeing that he had the most dignity to lose given his state of undress, Carrie let him take the lead. She returned her hands to their former task, encouraged by the way he rocked his hips forward to seek out her touch. He gasped against her lips, his forehead resting against hers as he tried to catch his breath. It occurred to her what the natural progression of this activity was, and nerves struck her again. While a few months ago she wouldn't have given a second thought to getting down on her knees to use her mouth, tonight she hesitated, unsure of herself.

Though she hated to think about it, particularly right now, she thought about Granger's group, about how awful they had made that particular act for her. While she ready to leave that in the past, Carrie knew she wasn't quite ready to give oral sex again, not even for Rick. Just as she was about to apologise, to explain why she couldn't give him something he most likely desired, she realised there was no reason to worry. Rick wasn't waiting expectantly for her to get down on her knees…in fact, he was kissing her shoulder, his hands stroking her lower back, and she hadn't even noticed. She breathed out slowly, trying to quell her nerves and start enjoying herself the way she had been before. Ever attentive, he noticed her hesitation, and he slowly raised his head and looked at her.

"You okay?"

The sound of his voice, of his low, husky accent, was helpful to hear, something she had grown used to enjoying over the last two weeks. She nodded, and then told him honestly, "Just a little nervous."

He actually smiled a little to hear this. "Me too."

His candid words were unexpected, taking her pleasantly by surprise. Glad that she wasn't alone in her nerves, she echoed his smile as her confidence returned, encouraging her. Watching the way his expression changed, Carrie returned her hands to their former activity, exploring his body and enjoying his groaned response. A few moments later he suddenly pushed her hands away, gently pressing her back against the wall. He rested his forehead against hers again, both of them panting for breath as his hands shakily began stroking the side of her neck. With a single kiss he seemed to take charge, plundering her mouth with his tongue as he held her. Carrie moaned deeply, the peak of her legs throbbing with the thought of how aroused he was, how much he wanted her.

"You're no fun," she teased, tilting her head when he kissed below her ear.

"I beg to differ," he argued breathlessly, trailing off. His hands didn't seem to know where to go, trying to touch all of her at once. Clearing his throat, he took a slow breath and leant back to look her in the eye. "You have me at a disadvantage here," he concluded, gesturing to her body.

Smirking, she looked down at the two of them, one fully clothed and the other almost naked. "I'm not stopping you."

Taking his hands, she moved them to the hem of her shirt, giving the indication he needed to reassure him that it was okay. She knew he was trying to be cautious with her, and this understanding only put her more at ease. Little encouragement was needed to spur him into action, Rick quickly helping her remove her shirt and drop it to the floor. They laughed together as he fumbled with the clasp of her bra, wrestling with it to get it open as soon as possible. Given that after sixteen years of marriage he ought to know how to open a bra, she figured he was indeed nerves, and so she happily brushed his hands aside and opened it herself. Thanking her with a kiss, he pulled the straps off her shoulders and tossed the offending item aside, Carrie laughing as it caught on the edge of a picture on the wall. Glancing at what made her laugh, Rick shook his head to himself and then turned his attention to her breasts, sealing his lips around one of her nipples and gently sucking.

"H - ohh" she gasped, her laugh dying with the sudden sensation. "Fu…"

When his eyes darted up to hers, and Carrie recognised a hint of satisfaction in them, pleased by the sounds she was making. His large hands, soft despite the callouses, massaged her breasts, plumping them up as his lips switched between them. The sheer gentleness of his touch contrasted with the scratch of his beard, each brush of his jaw against her skin making her shiver. Feeling his tongue scraping over her nipple Carrie shuddered in delight, her hands drifting down to her jeans. Rushing, she opened the button and zipper, pushing them down along with her underwear. Seeing what she was doing, Rick's hands began to follow the path of hers, helping.

"Rick." Her tone was a plea, demanding his attention. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Now…now."

No doubt she was boosting his ego. He smirked as he slid his tongue under the curve of her breast before reaching for the last of her clothes, helping her pull them all the way down. Taking her boots and socks off, he helped her step out of her jeans and underwear before he too did the same. Finally having him naked the way she wanted, she tried to bring him back to her, wanting to feel his bare skin pressed against her. But delaying gratification, he drew it out for as long as possible, moistening his lips as he dragged them up her belly and then between her breasts. She couldn't blame him for taking his time, this was perhaps going to be their only chance to slip away from Carl, but she was fit to burst. They'd been wound tight for three days since the night in the car, and she didn't want to wait any longer.

"Rick," she repeated, trying to scold him. "Come on…"

"Not yet."

Without preamble he moved her around to the bed, the wrought iron frame squeaking loudly as they got on. Ignoring this, Rick looked at her with his eyes glazed over in lust, watching the way her chest was heaving. Nervous and eager at the same time, she tried to pull him down against her, wanting to get started immediately. He acquiesced for only a moment, his kiss frustratingly soft before he sat up above her. Trailing his hands down her body, he placed them on her knees and pulled them apart. Trying to catch her ever elusive breath, Carrie resisted the urge to close her legs, feeling a flicker of embarrassment as he looked at her body so openly. His hands moved ever so slowly up her thighs, a series of slow touches that made her stomach tighten and her hips push forward without thought. Perhaps it was the secrecy of sneaking around, or perhaps it was simply him…but she was certain that she would come the moment he touched her.

She wanted to tell him to hurry up, that if he didn't put his hands or mouth on her soon she would yell in frustration. But she couldn't seem to find the words, having lost the ability to form anything other than breathless sighs. Doing the only thing she could, she reached for his head and pushed it down to where she wanted him. Finally he acquiesced, bowing his head as he brought his mouth between her legs. His hands joined in quickly, his fingers expertly opening her up to him and allowing his tongue to delve inside her. Still void of the ability to speak, Carrie let out a slow moan of relief and leant back on her elbows. He knew what he was doing, stroking her with tentative pressure as he searched for exactly the right spot. Undulating beneath him, she clenched her teeth and groaned as he slipped a finger inside of her. As though he could read her mind, Rick stroked deeply inside before adding a second, the two digits curling in just the right way.

"Show me what you like," he rasped, his voice deep and gravelly.

Only too happy to assist, she slid her hand down her stomach and began to demonstrate. Loving the way he watched with clear desire, she gently stroked a finger around her clitoris. Watching and learning, Rick kissed the inside of her thigh and ran his tongue over the soft skin. Taking a chance, he pushed her fingers away and replaced them with his own, mimicking their prior path. Finding it increasingly difficult to catch her breath, Carrie aided him, placing her hand over his and guiding the pressure he applied. With her own assistance it didn't take long for Rick's efforts to culminate, and her stomach heaved as she put her head back and came with a strained cry. Her body shuddered, her legs tensing as he gently sucked and licked, still dragging his fingers in and out of her as she choked for breath. Distantly she heard him groaning too, his touch slowing to a more gentle pace as she began to relax. With her hands clenched in his hair, she clumsily pushed him way when it became too much, her limbs growing heavy.

Groaning as she caught her breath, Carrie ran her hands over her stomach, her mind slowly recollecting itself as Rick kissed his way up her body. He lingered at her naval, running his tongue in a circle around her piercing before moving on to her breasts. As though they had done this a hundred times, Carrie's legs parted to accommodate him between them, her arms drifting around his back. She needed to hold him close, to feel his weight pressed against her. Still shaking, she welcomed him as he settled over her, capturing her lips in yet another kiss, and her arousal sparked again as she tasted herself on his lips.

"Told you I'm fun," he quipped, grinning down at her.

It took her a moment to realise he was teasing her, apparently very self satisfied. She supposed he had reason to be, but she playfully smacked him on the arm anyway. Still collecting her wits, she allowed herself to relax for a few moments, Rick content to kiss her neck as he waited. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd had an orgasm, particularly one as enjoyable as that, and she had to resist the urge to thank him profusely. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she twisted around beneath him to look through the window. Daryl had been out there, and she had completely forgotten. How much had he heard…had he looked in through the window to find out what the source of light was? Hearing Rick laughing, she turned back to him with a questioning look.

"He's gone."

"Thank God," she sighed. "Did he see anything?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know."

Laughing at his embarrassment, Carrie shared it. She knew Daryl was discreet and didn't give a shit who was sleeping with who…but still, they had to look him in the eye tomorrow. Enjoying the way Rick stroked his fingers down the side of her waist, she snapped back to attention as another burst of energy struck her. His hair was a curly mess, and so she brushed it back off his face and smoothed it down. Sharing a brief kiss, she pressed her hand against his chest with a clear look.

"Condom. Now." Her tone left no room for argument.

Not needing to be told twice, Rick didn't waste another second before getting up and retrieving his jeans. For the brief moment that he stood, Carrie took the opportunity to admire his body, taking particular interest in his ass. Although definitely interested, prior to tonight she had tried to limit her ogling of that particular feature, not wanting to be caught and end up embarrassing the both of them. Now though, she let her eyes drink in his body, scouring every inch of his strong, muscular physique. She wondered if he had always been built like that, or if his body had changed and adapted to the new world just like hers had. Finally he came back to her, kneeling between her legs with a square of foil in his hands. Sitting up eagerly, she grinned as she took it from him, tossed the wrapper aside and carefully rolled the condom on. Taking advantage of her position, she ran her tongue up his lower stomach, circling it around his naval as she tasted the sheen of sweat on his skin.

"Jesus, Carrie." Now it was him panting for breath, and he prompted her to move back on the bed. Settling across the centre of the bed, they ignored the squeaks of the bed frame as he laid himself down, trying to keep his weight off of her. "I'm not going to last," he ground out.

"It's okay," she reassured him with honesty. Brushing his hair off his face for a second time, she couldn't help but feel somewhat pleased by this admission, knowing how tightly wound he must be. "I got mine…you get should yours."

"How democratic."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not bring politics into this."

Laughing under his breath, he kissed her fervently as he settled his weight down against her, and she eagerly welcomed it. Thankfully he seemed content to take his time with her, his touch unhurried as he slid his hand down the back of her thigh towards her knee. Gently pulling it up towards her, he helped her get comfortable before gently pressing his erection inside her. Breaking this kiss, he seemed to be watching her expression, trying to gauge her reaction, and so she made her approval clear. Hitching her leg around his hip she used its weight to encourage him, screwing her eyes shut as he sank inside her. Not needing to be quiet, he shuddered and then groaned loudly against her neck, a sentiment she echoed in kind. The fit of their bodies together, while satisfying to finally have, was tighter than she expected.

Even though she could feel his hips twitching, his breath coming in short pants, Rick stayed frozen exactly the way he was, his head resting against her shoulder. Thanking him for his consideration, she turned her head and resumed their former kiss, even though it was suddenly all that much harder to breathe. The ease of simply kissing him helped relax her a little, and soon she was rocking her hips up against his, prompting him. Situating himself properly, he slid his hand underneath her ass and adjusted her hips a little better.

"This okay?" he asked breathlessly.

She nodded eagerly, her heart swelling as she saw his tentative smile. "It's good," she assured him. "More would be better."

Agreeing, he pressed open mouthed kisses along her jaw as they started moving. Their movements were clumsy and awkward at first, both of them trying to establish a rhythm with a partner they didn't yet know. Nevertheless they figured it out quickly enough, Carrie letting him take the lead. Getting comfortable, he brought their bodies closer together, his arm sliding underneath her back to hold her close to him. Revelling in the closeness his embrace created, Carrie held him tightly, one hand around his shoulder and the other clenched in his hair. The way he was holding her made her heart swell, his arm around her making her feel less like a one night stand and more like a lover, especially now as he kissed and nipped at the skin on her shoulder.

Basking in every moment, she tenderly stroked the back of his head and dragged her fingers through his hair. His face rested in the crook of her neck, his chest vibrating against hers with every groan of pleasure. Each thrust was deliciously slow, and whether it was by his intention or luck, each roll of his hips was perfectly angled against her clitoris, making her wonder if she could reach climax again so soon.

"Rick," she started breathlessly, turning her head to his.

Capturing his lips, she kissed him hard. She tried to articulate what she wanted, but as they tended to do during sex, words escaped her. Knowing what she needed, and suspecting he wouldn't mind, she went still beneath him then gave his shoulder a gentle push. Acquiescing, he nodded before slowly pulling out of her, sitting up on his knees and heaving for breath. He smiled as he looked down at her, his hands resting on her knees as she too took a moment to catch her breath. When she could unscramble her mind she hurriedly sat up and got to her knees, sharing a brief kiss as he lay down and helped her move on top of him. Her limbs were shakier than she would have liked, the struggle to catch her breath making her question whether or not she had the stamina for this.

Although probably impatient, he didn't rush her, but instead soothed her urgency by running his hands up and down the sides of her ribs. Grateful, she took his hands and pressed them to her hips, knowing she was going to need his help. When she sank back down onto his erection she couldn't help but smile when she caught his expression, hearing the soft grunt he made. His lips parted in awe, his brow furrowing as he watched before his eyes drifted closed. Just like when they started before, their movements were awkward and clumsy, and they spent as much time getting it wrong as they did getting it right. Trying to change it up, Carrie leant forward a little and put her hands onto his chest, horrified to see a flash of pain across his face as she did so.

"Shit. Sorry," she apologised.

Brushing off her apology, he simply took her hand and moved it from the left side of his chest to his sternum instead. A quick thrust from underneath her was all she needed to resume, and from then on they started to get it right. Undulating on top of him, she used his body to their mutual benefit, enjoying the erotic way he slid in and out of her. It didn't take her long now, especially not with the way he moved one hand to clutch her breast while the other went to where they were joined, blindly stroking her and hoping he got it right. His efforts proved to be the tipping point, and her stomach quivered as she groaned softly, this climax a little more gentle, but no less gratifying. Grinding against him, she prolonged the sensation for as long as she could, hearing him mutter something that sounded distinctly like, "Thank God".

Shuddering for breath, she lay down against his chest in anticipation of his next move. They kissed before he swiftly rolled them over, settling her down onto her back and then lowering his head to her breast. Lavishing it with attention, he greedily sucked her nipple into his mouth as he started moving inside her, his thrusts becoming hurried as he too sought relief. He swirled his tongue around her nipple before moving on to the other, paying it some attention and then kissing her on the lips. Their teeth bumped as he sped up the pace of his thrusts, and when he came a moment later he clenched his fist into the sheets, his throat rumbling with a guttural groan that she would remember for days. He shuddered against her, still thrusting as his head dropped down onto her shoulder, her name breathlessly falling from his lips when he finally stilled.

Still recovering herself, Carrie held her arms around him as his breathing finally slowed. He was a little heavy on top of her, but when he went to move off her she protested. Enjoying the moment too much, she wasn't quite ready for him to move, despite the uncomfortable way his hip bone pressed into her thigh. Tightening her arms around him, she moved one of her hands into his hair and began stroking it, grateful when he moved only to adjust his weight on her. He sighed as he got comfortable, his free hand caressing her waist before he properly embraced her.

She had forgotten how good this part of sex was, how much she enjoyed the closeness and embrace of her partner. She couldn't remember the last time she had been held like this, the last time an embrace had made her feel so revered. Certainly it wasn't the first time she took a date home after her divorce, and definitely not after the awkward one night stand she'd had early on in the outbreak. Feeling Rick's hot breaths against her neck, she closed her eyes and rested, enjoying the sensations when he reached for her breast again, cupping it in his palm. He brushed his thumb over her nipple, admiring the way it hardened before tracing his fingers over the underside. It tickled, and the small laugh she gave prompted him to do it again.

Ready now, she tenderly kissed his forehead and then shifted a little, indicating what she wanted. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gently pulled out of her and then tossed the condom away, not caring where it landed. He collapsed down beside her in exhaustion, his chest heaving for breath as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Holy shit," he swore, looking at her as a smile graced his face.

"I know," she echoed, letting him pull her against his side.

They kissed languidly, enjoying the afterglow as Rick ran his hand up and down her waist. Now that they had stopped moving they quickly grew cold, and she sought warmth from his body as he pulled the blankets up and over them. Getting comfortable, she dragged her lips across his jaw, enjoying the rough texture of his beard. The urgency was gone now, both content to lay with one another, their hands free to wander and explore at leisure. Savouring the peacefulness, she kissed her way across his chest and let her tongue roll around his nipple, noting the way his stomach tightened. Discovering that he liked it, she scraped her teeth over it as well, getting the same reaction. Getting to know him in such intimate ways was exciting, and she was glad she didn't have the hide the silly grin on her face.

With a long, satisfied sigh, Rick spared her a lazy kiss before closing his eyes. His hand that had been yet again touching her breasts became still now, his body going lax beside her.

"Don't fall asleep."

"I'm not," he mumbled, sounding as though he indeed was.

Letting him rest, Carrie listened to his slow breaths, glad that she had finally managed to catch her own. Though she too wanted to sleep, especially given the intimate embrace she was in, she forced herself to keep her eyes open, suspecting she couldn't trust him to stay awake. Instead she amused herself by touching him at leisure, skimming her fingers down his chest and then his stomach. Feeling a few bumps on the left side of his rib cage, she remembered that was where she had accidentally hurt him only a short time ago, having leant her hand there. Dwelling on this, she thought back to the other day when he and Granger had fought. Rick had dominated the confrontation right up until Granger landed a heavy blow to his back…to the left hand side. The blankets hid it from her view, but she traced what she could feel of the scar tissue, wondering if that had been where he had been shot on duty. Wanting to explore his body a little more, she ran her palm across his stomach and down his right leg. She had caught a glimpse of something above his knee, and she was curious as to what it was. But she couldn't feel anything, and before she could ask him about it, he spoke up.

"It's a birthmark," he mumbled into her hair.

"Oh," she murmured, wishing she could see it for herself. "I thought it might be a tattoo."

Her remark seemed to catch his attention, and he suddenly raised his head as though he had remembered something important. She grew fractionally concerned, seeing the same mischievous look in his eyes that Carl got when conspiring with Michonne. Without preamble, Rick lifted the blankets and let the light from the flashlight flood underneath. She tried not to blush as he looked her naked body up and down, instead focusing on the clear look of desire on his face.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Where's your tattoo?"

Realising that he was looking for it, Carrie laughed. She opened her mouth to tell him, but was struck by a better idea. Throwing back the blankets, she stretched out beside him playfully, showing off the length of her body.

"Why don't you look for it?"

He met her challenge with enthusiasm. Nudging her onto her back, he rolled on top of her and pressed himself against the length of her torso, making sure she felt all of him. Starting with her arms, he sat up and held each of her hands as he looked them over, his fingertips teasing as he slid them up the underside of her arms. On instinct she pinned them to her side, fearing that he would try to tickle her, but his attention was keenly focused. Under the pretence of searching, he leant down and nuzzled each side of her neck, skimming his lips across her skin.

"Hmmm…not here," he muttered, kissing the front of her shoulder.

Moving on, he kissed across each of her collar bones, and then like she suspected he might, he got distracted. Stroking both her breasts, he pretended to scrutinise them before using his mouth to lather them with attention. He massaged one while kissing the other, hot, wet kisses that made her arch up into his mouth. Ever diligent, he switched between them and shared the attention, his tongue flickering over some of her freckles. She could hear him sighing, his voice softly telling her that she was beautiful, that her body was beautiful. This wasn't the first time that she had been told this, especially by a lover, but from Rick it felt particularly nice to hear.

"Rick…tattoo," she said, feeling his penis getting hard against her leg. In that moment she wished he had another condom, his skilful hands and mouth making her start to ache for him again.

Pretending to apologise, he carried on, dragging his tongue down her stomach as his hands began caressing her legs. Carrie shuddered, feeling him pull her knees apart just like he had done earlier. Kneeling above her now, Rick looked down at her with obvious desire, clenching his jaw as he looked her over.

"Not here." Leaning down, he kissed the skin on her hip, his fingers gently stroking her pubic hair. "Not here either."

His accent made her surge with desire, having loved the sound of his voice from the day she had heard it. Her heart was pounding, reminding her just how alive she felt. He was barely touching her, but Carrie couldn't think about anything other than him and what he was making her feel. Releasing a slow breath, Carrie looked at him with challenge in her eyes, wanting him again…condom or no condom, she wanted something.

Nevertheless she allowed him to continue looking, knowing he had patiently waited for the opportunity to see her tattoo. He caressed her legs and carefully scrutinised them to his satisfaction. Bringing her knees back together, he nudged her to turn over. She hesitated for just a moment, a flicker of vulnerability stirring at the thought of being face down beneath him. Face down was how she'd preferred to let Granger's group have at her, the position meaning she could hide her face, that she didn't have to look at them. Sitting up abruptly, she brought Rick's lips to hers and kissed him fiercely, savouring the soft grunt of surprise he made. The flicker of vulnerability passed swiftly, because while those men had wanted her powerless, Rick wanted _her_ , and that made all the difference.

Kissing him until he had to pull away, panting for breath, Carrie grinned as she did what he requested. She lay down on her front and waited with bated breath, wondering what he would do. There was no way he couldn't see her tattoo now, even in the dim light. Would he go straight to it? Or would he avoid it until the very last second, taking advantage of every moment he had to enjoy her body? Unable to take the anticipation, she looked at him over her shoulder, enjoying the way he ran his hands up the back of her legs and paused halfway up her thighs. Finally he stretched himself out along her back, his erection pressing against the curve of her ass as he began kissing the back of her shoulder. Unable to help herself, she pushed up against him, smirking into the blanket as he returned the gesture. She squirmed a little, clenching her legs together to try and relieve the growing ache.

"Not here…"

He worked slowly, moving down her back at an agonising pace. Clearly enjoying the reactions he was getting, he paused and ran his tongue over a white scar on her shoulder blade.

"What's this from?"

"I was thrown off a horse."

"Ouch."

She tried to agree, but her voice was lost. Instead she just squirmed, trying to make it clear to him that he was going too slowly. He laughed softly, running his finger down her spine and stopping at her lower back. Pressing a kiss there, he paused and took a good look.

"Not here."

Finally he moved down to her ass, his fingers trailing each cheek and tickling a little. Making a small sound of success, Rick finally pressed his lips against the curve of her left cheek, running his tongue around the edge of the tattoo.

"Found it."

"About time," she sighed. Feeling him so close to her centre, she parted her legs and hoped he'd pay attention. Making sure he got the message, she jutted her hips back a little.

"Tinkerbell? Really?"

"I was sixteen," she reminded him. "It was a good idea at the time."

Suddenly he laughed, his tongue running along the script beneath Tinkerbell. "Just as dash of sass? That's an understatement."

She laughed at his tone of voice, liking that he could be so playful. But getting impatient, she sighed loudly and pressed her face into the blankets. God, he was as infuriating as he was humorous. Was he really not getting her signals, or was he just teasing?

"Rick."

"Hmmm?"

"Are you going to make me ask you again?"

"Ask me what?" he enquired, kissing the dip of her lower back.

Carrie groaned in annoyance. "Have you got any more condoms?"

She was willing to wager a bet that he was smiling, certain she could feel his lips curving against her skin. He delayed answering her, forcing her to twist around and meet his eyes.

Looking rather pleased with himself, he nodded. "Two more."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Carrie smiled at him and wriggled her hips a little. "Fun, and resourceful. Come on then…don't make me ask again."

Kissing her tattoo again, he stood up with a gentle smack to the curve of her ass, his playfulness making her laugh yet again. As she waited for him to come back, she turned onto her side and watched him, honoured to see a side of him that he didn't often show. He tended to go about his day with an impassive expression or a scowl that rivalled Daryl's, cracking a smile only when someone worked to get it out of him.

"What?" he enquired, seeing that he was the focus of her attention.

"Nothing." She reached back and patted the bed behind her, indicating where exactly she wanted him. As he drew her back against his chest, she stretched and reached around for him. She drew him into a kiss and clenched her fingers into his hair, liking how soft it was. "It's just nice to see you smiling."

He shrugged in embarrassment, having not realised she was paying attention to such things. "Well I have got a naked woman rubbing up against me…that's something to smile about." Wasting no more time, he hooked his arm underneath her knee and effortlessly slid inside her. Letting her rest her head on his bicep, he reached around her front so that he could hold her close, kissing the back of her shoulder. "I promise this'll be more than two minutes…"

"I wasn't complaining," she assured him.

She was more relaxed this time, their union easier and more comfortable. Like before, they fumbled clumsily to establish a rhythm, finally getting it right after a few awkward tries. Completely at ease, Carrie let herself enjoy the intimacy of Rick's embrace, feeling closer to him than she had to anyone in a long time. The memories of the day he picked her up came flooding back, remembering how the simple act of him speaking to her had made her feel human, made her feel alive. He was doing that to her again now. His intimate embrace, perhaps just a normal position to anyone else, made her feel secure and close to him.

Not questioning it, Carrie closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the moment.

* * *

It was difficult to comprehend that Rick had ever felt nervous about being with Carrie, that he had spent hours on watch anxiously anticipating what their night together might bring. Somehow by the time they reached the house, all traces of his nerves had disappeared, replaced by sheer lust and the desire to have all of her at once. Thankfully a lingering sense of responsibility reminded him to check that the house was safe, to divest themselves of all weapons before getting carried away. He knew Carrie wouldn't think of either of those things, particularly given the haste and urgency she had been exhibiting the moment they left the underground bunker.

God, could it have been any more perfect? He and Carrie…they didn't know each other, what they liked and disliked when it came to sex, but it came to them so easily, so naturally. They were starting from scratch, awkward fumbles and urgent kisses ensuing as they figured each other out, but it proved more effortless than expected. She must have been wound just as tight as he was, for everything he did seemed to garner a positive response. A kiss here…a touch there…he didn't seem to set a foot wrong. For that matter, neither did she. He loved her initiative, that she asked him what he liked and told him the same. He shouldn't have been worried, but he had been. With Lori, he knew these things instinctually, confident in what she liked and didn't. It was difficult to remember that there had once been a time when they too were new to each other. But although he and Carrie were new to each other, they weren't teenagers fumbling around…they knew what they were doing.

He knew that he wasn't going to last long once he entered her, and was grateful that she didn't seem bothered by it. God knew it had been far too long since he had sex…it would have been back on the Greene farm, the middle of the night after he and Shane had come back from their failed attempt to let Randal go. With Carl sleeping only a few feet away, he and Lori were trying to connect with each other even as Shane was trying to pull them apart. Neither of them had been really in the mood, but they had made the effort for one another's sake. It hadn't been much, not with Carl waking up and interrupting them, but at the time it had been enough. With a pang of regret, Rick remembered thinking that there would be plenty of other opportunities to enjoy one another…that they would have more time.

Since the farm had fallen, sex had been the last thing on his mind, especially given everything that happened with Lori. A few Woodbury residents had expressed their attraction to their new group's leader, but only in whispers behind their hands as he and Carl passed them on their way to the gardens. And in Alexandria too, whose residents had little else to do but gossip, Rick knew it was more than Judith that garnered him attention. He thanked God that their fear of him kept them from even thinking about acting on any interest. In general he just ignored anything more than a friendly look, as his attention was generally elsewhere on things that were actually important. Until Carrie had come along and he had started noticing how attracted to her he was, he had rarely thought of sex except in passing, let alone pursued someone for it.

With an internal sigh of defeat, Rick knew he had broken the bank. He and Carrie had just had sex twice, two amazing encounters that would be in the forefront of his mind for weeks to come, and he was already wondering when and where they could use the last condom. With a smirk, he knew that they didn't have to worry about only having one condom left…once they were home in Alexandria, they would be in tall supply. Contraceptives were about the only supply that you didn't have to ask Olivia for, the notion of population control strongly encouraged.

"So," Carrie began. "One left, yeah?"

"Condom? One for now."

"Good," she grinned, rubbing her hand across his stomach. "We'll have to make use of it."

Shaking his head to himself, Rick rolled onto his side and kissed her lightly. "Jesus, Carrie…stop reading my mind."

For possibly the hundredth time tonight, she smiled and gave a short laugh, her lovely eyes crinkled in mirth. "Well, when you're onto a good thing…"

Agreeing with her, he pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arm around her, wanting to feel her close. They were both exhausted, Rick desperately fighting the need to fall asleep. Amused to note that they were spread out diagonally across the bed, he reached up with one hand and dragged the blankets back towards them. But as he went to pull the blankets over her, Carrie hastily sat up and shuffled towards the edge of the bed, shaking her head at him.

"What is it?" he asked, watching as she got to her feet and started looking around on the floor. He hoped she didn't want to redress and head back to the bunker. They had plenty of time…he wasn't ready to give her back yet, and desired to linger a little while longer. But when he saw what she was doing, that she had found his shirt and was slipping it on, he nodded in approval.

"I love doing this," she told him, her voice low and husky. Turning around, she showed off the way his shirt hung from her shoulders, and he was pleased to see that it covered very little of her.

"It looks good on you."

Thankfully she didn't bother with the buttons, letting the sides flutter open as she returned to the bed and straddled him. Liking her train of thought, he used the shirt to pull her down, kissing her as he felt arousal beginning to stir. As his penis began to harden again, he forcefully talked himself down, suspecting that by now she'd want to be left alone. Echoing this thought, Carrie swept her lips over his one more time before laying down beside him, letting him spread the blankets out across them.

They lay in silence now, her head resting on his shoulder with his arm around her. It was a comfortable embrace, one that meant his arm wouldn't go numb. Her eyes were closed, her body completely relaxed and satiated, unlike a short while ago. Picturing her, Rick was awed by the memory of her on top of him, of the way she slid up and down his length until she reached climax. Then there was the second round, slower and sweeter than the first, but no less enjoyable.

Carrie's hand ran across his chest and then paused on the scar from his gunshot, her fingers lightly touching the dead tissue. "I didn't take you for a man who liked to snuggle."

Scoffing, he reached around and slipped his under the shirt to caress her hip. "If you're naked, I like to snuggle."

She giggled, lifting her head enough to kiss his scar. To Rick's relief she left it at that, accepting his answer. He didn't want to tell her the truth, to admit that holding her in his arms was nicer than he expected. He had always loved the way Lori used to curl her body into his after they made love, the way her touch enhanced everything he already felt about her. Holding Carrie the same way aroused the same type of feelings, ones that he didn't quite want to acknowledge. Right now, the simple act of holding her in his arms felt intensely intimate, and though he scolded himself for thinking in such a way, he longed for that feeling. Besides, he'd never been one for a one night stand, despite Shane's encouragement. Looking down at Carrie, he smiled at the way his open shirt skimmed her breasts, exposing just enough of the flesh that he could still look.

"What?"

Rick hesitated, realising she had noticed his attention. "How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

Carrie snorted at this, shifting a little and getting comfortable. "Sunny side up. Don't fall asleep."

Sighing, he remembered how bone achingly tired he was, noticing how much harder it was to keep his eyes open. "That's like telling the fat kid to guard the pie."

Carrie laughed loudly, her body shaking in his arms as she kissed the centre of his chest. "I love that you can make me laugh…even during sex."

"So long as you're laughing with me, not at me."

"Rick," she continued sternly, noticing the way his breathing slowed. "Don't go to sleep."

"Five more minutes."

"We can't," she moaned, poking his stomach. Spreading out her hand, she ran it down his body, caressing his leg as she tried to wake him up. "Rick."

"Mmm?"

"Derrick Carlson Grimes."

"Ohh, fighten' words."

She giggled, kissing his chest affectionately. "I'll give you fighten' words," she threatened.

Sighing dramatically, Rick opened his eyes and looked at her in the dim light. Taking her chin in his finger tips, he tilted her head up and kissed her lightly, running his tongue along the red skin in the corner of her mouth.

"Nice stubble rash," he quipped, gently blowing on the moist skin. He watched as her mouth curved into a smile she tried to hide. "I'll shave when we get to Alexandria."

Carrie raised her eyebrows at this. "Hmmm baby faced Derrick Grimes…I think I'd like to see that."

"There's nothing baby faced about me," he growled, silencing her retort with a deep kiss. Stopping only when they needed to breathe, he observed her facial features as he stroked her hair. Her features were sweet and fierce at the same time, a contrast echoed by her dark eyebrows and light blonde hair. Feeling tired again, he groaned and put his head in the crook of her neck. "Five minutes."

"Fine…five minutes."

Pulling the blankets up higher, Carrie nestled further into his arms, their embrace warm and intimate. The aftermath of their sex wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, a state that they were both grateful for. Though he knew he shouldn't, for falling asleep after sex was something Lori used to tease him for, he closed his eyes…only for a few moments. He just wanted to enjoy their time together, to be completely at ease before they had to rejoin the rest of their group and the world beyond.

He was asleep in less than a minute.

* * *

A/N Can't wait to read your reviews guys, thank you!


	34. Chapter 34

It was still dark when Rick roused, his eyes flickering open to look up at the ceiling. It took a few moments for him to comprehend where he was and what he was doing, for he felt no alarm upon awakening, even though he instinctually knew he had fallen asleep when he shouldn't have. It was difficult to see this as being a problem, especially when he felt so warm and comfortable with a naked woman stretched out next to him. The darkness was the only thing he needed to reassure him that all was okay…if it was dark, then Carl was still asleep, and Rick's secret was safe. Reassured by that, he sleepily pulled the blanket up a little higher and sighed deeply, turning his head back towards Carrie.

She slept with her back against his chest, her head resting in the crook of his arm. Sighing against the back of her head, he lifted his left hand from around her waist and looked at his watch. There was just enough light from the flashlight to see that it was a little before six in the morning, indicating that they hadn't been asleep for more than a few hours. There might be forty or so monies before the sun rose and they had to return to the bunker, forty minutes in which Rick could delay his return to reality.

Though he was quite enjoying the way he held Carrie, he gently slipped his arm out form under hers all together, moving slowly as he moved onto his back. Checking the blankets to make sure that she was warm enough, he stretched his left arm up behind his head, the ribs around his old gunshot wound starting to feel sore. Looking up at the ceiling, he mentally planned the day ahead, knowing that it would be a welcome break to the monotony of driving from sun up to sun down. They had an entire Walmart to clear, and despite his denial to Aaron, Rick relished the idea of choosing clothes for his daughter. Following the completion of that task, they'd more than likely split up for an hour or so to scavenge anything that might be left throughout the city, and then they'd spend the night in the city. Dwelling on this, Rick wondered if he and Carrie might be able to sneak away again that night, if just maybe things would work in their favour. He didn't see why it couldn't happen. Having taken a watch shift for the last two nights, it wasn't unreasonable that he take the night off…the whole night.

Carrie began moving a little, a long, heady sigh indicating that she was beginning to awaken. Letting her rouse in her own time, Rick closed his eyes and welcomed her as she turned over and lay her head against his shoulder. Peaceful moments passed now, Carrie getting comfortable as she slung one of her legs over his. He could tell she was awake, having felt her lift her head off his shoulder for a moment, but he was reluctant to open his eyes. Both of them being awake meant that they'd have to get up and redress, that they'd have to leave, and he wanted to delay that for as long as possible.

"I know you're awake," she whispered. Running her hand over his stomach, she shifted a little as she got comfortable again.

"I'm not."

"Oh, that's a shame," she whispered, using her finger tips to circle around his navel. With a long sigh she lay her hand down on his lower stomach and relaxed. "There are a lot of things I can do with a man who's awake."

This elicited a smile from him, her remark enough to make him open his eyes. Looking down at her, he raised his hand and began trailing his fingers through her hair, enjoying the way it felt. Taking a handful, he brought it up to his nose and inhaled, trying to determine scent of shampoo she had used yesterday. It was green apple, the same everyone else had used, and it seemed to linger in her hair despite the exertion of their earlier activities…or perhaps he was just imagining it. Still stroking it, he frowned when he came across a section that was considerably shorter than the rest, and he wondered how he hadn't noticed that before.

"What happened here?" he asked, gently tugging on the shorter section.

"Mmm? Oh, that? That's from when I was on the road by myself."

"A Walker?"

"No, it was all matted up with Walker guts," she told him. "I was cleaning up in a river and I couldn't get the knots out, so I took my knife to it and cut them out. I can't wait for one of Jessie's haircuts."

"No," he protested. Turning onto his side a little, he looked down at her with a gentle smile. "You should keep it long."

Confident that his breath wasn't bad, he started pressing gentle kisses to her cheek, his free hand skimming his fingers down her arm. Pulling back the front of his shirt she was wearing, he brushed his fingertips over her breasts, pleased by the way her nipple began to harden. She was probably getting sick of this, but unable to resist he shuffled himself down and eagerly kissed her breast, revelling in how good it felt in his hand. Ever since that night in the car he couldn't get enough of them, and he suspected that desire wasn't going anywhere soon.

"I'm awake now," he assured her, kissing her lips next.

"I can tell."

She gently pushed on his shoulder, and though he wanted to hold his body against hers, to kiss her sweetly, he responded immediately. If she asked him to do something, then he would, needing her to trust that he listened. But as he suspected, she didn't want him to stop, she didn't want space from him…instead, she made a point of lifting the blankets and pushing them down. He hissed as the cold air hit his body, but his blood ran hot when he realised what she was doing, that she was checking him out. She made no apologies for it either, giving him a cheeky smile as she dropped the blanket around his thighs and openly looked at his body. Christ…if he didn't have morning wood before, he sure as hell did now.

Any momentary embarrassment he felt vanished the moment she started moving her hand down towards his leg, and he held his breath as he waited for her to take him in her hand, eagerly anticipating it. He looked her in the eye as he waited, and he clenched his jaw when she rubbed her hand everywhere but the one place he wanted it. She rubbed his stomach, his legs, his hips…and she knew exactly what she was doing too, the smirk on her face told him that. Giving in, for that's exactly what she was waiting for, he whispered his request into her ear, being sure to follow it up with a kiss to the side of her neck. When she finally put her hand on his erection and began rubbing, his groan of relief was embarrassingly loud, but he couldn't help himself. Last night she had been the one hurrying him, but this morning the tables had turned.

Eager for more, he turned back onto his side and began stroking her hip, seeking out her lips and kissing her sensually. His reward was a long sigh, her hand working a little more quickly now. Forgetting all about the time, for he was certain they had plenty, Rick focused solely on the two of them, his hips moving in tandem with her hand as he felt his stomach tightening. It was with great reluctance that he pushed her hand off him, knowing that if they didn't start properly now, they might not at all. It was awfully tempting to just slide straight inside her, to take her then and there and the contraception be damned, but the responsible voice in his head shouted him down. He knew he didn't have the self-control to rely on the withdrawal method for contraception…Carl was proof of that.

With a pained groan, Rick stopped her movements, breaking their kiss for good measure. Carrie just grinned at him in amusement, looking ridiculously pleased with herself, and she teasingly ran her hand up his chest to stroke his neck. Ignoring his attempt to take a breather, she kissed him hard, enjoying the way he held himself back from deepening it.

"Something the matter, Derrick?"

Ignoring the use of his full name, he took a deep breath as he pulled away from her, slumping down onto his back. "Only how good that felt."

Panting, he hurriedly looked on the bedside table for the last condom, distinctly remembering that he had tossed it there the previous night. He saw it quickly, but to both his horror and delight, Carrie sat up and straddled him now, settling the peak of her legs right onto his erection. Resisting the urgent need to thrust up against her, he flung his arm out to the bedside table and fumbled around, trying to reach the condom. Carrie on the other hand, was more interested in looking down at him, her hands caressing his chest until she paused on the scar from his gunshot wound. Her fingers traced the circumference, feeling the bumps and ridges of the scar tissue.

"This is where you got shot." It was more of a statement than a question, yet Rick found himself nodding in confirmation. She reached around and touched his back now, caressing the smaller scar there. "Entry wound?"

He nodded, biting the inside of his mouth. Finding the condom, he gratefully clenched it in his hand.

"Surgery?"

She touched his other scars, small white marks on his chest that hadn't been there before he was shot. Lori had told him at the quarry camp about his treatment, about the emergency surgery that had ultimately seen him comatose. Carrie's hand moved up to the front of his shoulder now, touching the raised up scar Morgan had left him with.

"This one?"

"Stab wound. From a friend."

Carrie laughed shortly. "Some friend." She sat up a little and shuffled down the bed, hovering over his knees as she dragged her hands down each of his legs. She paused on his left thigh now. "And this one?"

"Gun shot," he stated simply, glancing at the long, mottled scar on the side of his leg. "Not from a friend."

She didn't laugh at this, but instead lowered her lips to his leg and ran her tongue along the length of his scar. Rick just grit his teeth as he breathed deeply, resisting the need to clench his hand into her hair and push her head towards where he'd really like it. She knew what effect she was having on him, she was taking great delight in it, but thankfully she didn't draw out his torture for too long. Looking just as eager as he was she took the condom from his hand, rolling her eyes when she saw he had been clenching it.

"You'll break it doing that."

"Don't say terrible things like that," he scolded, shuddering at the thought.

They shuffled towards the centre of the bed, Carrie opening the wrapper and getting straight to it, and this time there was no slow build up, there was no gentle start. Propping himself up on one elbow, Rick clenched his hand into her hair as he pulled her down for a rough kiss, their teeth bumping as they started moving. Ignoring the sunlight that was beginning to emerge, he took her hard and fast, spurred on by the increasing volume of her gasps and moving on top of her only when she became fatigued.

He couldn't remember ever feeling so care free, so at peace. It was difficult to remember the world outside that room, to remember that he was a leader, a father…a widow. As Carrie pushed back and forth to meet his every thrust, her legs tightly wound around his hips, it was difficult to remember anything but her and the way she was making him feel. It was more than good sex, more than the thrill of doing something he ought not to be…he felt at peace, content. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this way, even before the outbreak. He never wanted it to end, desiring little more than the opportunity for he and Carrie to spend days and weeks locked away in that room, forgetting about everything else. That's what he seemed able to do with Carrie, to take pause and forget about things for a little while. When they finally collapsed together in a heap, Rick could have sworn he felt his mind floating a few feet above his body, completely spent.

"Come on," Carrie teased, playfully slapping his stomach. Full of energy, she bounded to her feet and started looking around for their clothes, tossing his jeans at him.

"Are you kidding me?" he groaned, catching his jeans as he forced himself to sit up. He watched in disappointment as she pulled her underwear up her shapely legs, but that quickly turned into amusement. She shrugged his shirt off her shoulders and tossed it to him, the motion allowing him to take a good look at her naked torso in the morning light.

"What?" she asked, untangling her bra. She blushed when he noticed his gaze, a little easier to embarrass now that heat of the moment had passed.

"Nothing," he denied, leaning back on his elbows as he watched her. "Just admiring your…birthmarks?"

Carrie looked down at herself in confusion, seeing the two new bruises on her breast and collarbone. She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. "My clothes will cover them."

He snorted derisively. "Sure, but the one on your neck is going to be difficult."

Narrowing her eyes, Carrie turned on her heel and headed for the en suite bathroom to look in the mirror. Listening to her annoyed huffs, Rick tried not to smirk as he started redressing, pulling his jeans and boots on. Leaving his shirt for now, he followed Carrie into the bathroom, not surprised to see she had found some make up, and was dabbing foundation onto the red bruise on her neck. there was a light pink rash over both sides of her neck too, no doubt from the roughness of his short beard. She looked at him in the mirror, her mouth twisted as she tried to hide a smile. Changing tact, she instead looked his reflection up and down, her flushed cheeks indicating that she approved.

"Is that the only one?" she asked, turning her head each way to check her reflection.

"Another could be organised."

"Not if you don't want people asking questions."

Putting down the foundation, she turned to face him, squaring her shoulders. The slight movement made his eyes flicker down to her breasts, her nipples hard from the cold air in the room. Despite surely having had his fill of her, Rick still found himself wanting more, and it was difficult to keep his hands to himself as she came over to him.

He held his breath as she stood close to him, her breasts less than an inch away from pressing against his chest. It was difficult not to look at them, to not lick his lips in anticipation. Clearing his throat, he looked her in the eye, both of them very aware of the effect they had on each other. He let his eyes drink in her features, and he searched for what it was that made her different from every other woman he had met in recent months. Against his will his eyes darted down again, taking in her breasts and the silver glint from her naval piercing.

"You're very beautiful," he whispered, wanting her to know what he thought.

"Thank you," she replied in another whisper. Her eyes locked on his, she reached out a lone finger tip and touched his upper stomach, dragging it down over his naval towards the hem of his jeans. "You're not so bad yourself."

Letting her have her way, Rick closed his eyes as she leant into his neck. She kissed him softly, but then took him completely by surprise. Grabbing both his arms, Carrie sealed her lips onto his skin and began to suck hard. She squealed with laughter as he wrenched himself away, the two of them bursting into laughter as he held her at arms length, scolding her attempt to mark him up the way he had her.

"What am I going to do with you?" he questioned, shaking his head. Releasing her, he let her move back against his chest and slide her arms around him. They kissed languidly, Rick's hand stroking the knots and tangles out of her long hair. It was her turn to be taken by surprise. Easily hooking his hands under her thighs, Rick picked her up and held her against his chest, laughing as she scrambled to secure her arms around his shoulder. Carrying her with ease, he took her back into the bedroom, pressing soft kisses along her jaw.

"Rick, put me down!"

He did so obediently, dropping her onto the bed and laying over her. Enjoying the way she panted for breath as laughter crossed her features, he pecked a gentle kiss to her lips. He wasn't ready to give her up yet…he still wanted more, and while it was still offered, he would take it. Kissing his way down her torso, he ran his tongue around the edge of her nipple.

"Rick. We have to get dressed…Rick…Derrick!"

A sharp blow to the top of his head made him look up, and he playfully pressed his teeth around her areola as he looked her in the eye. She squirmed beneath him and grabbed a handful of his hair, her expression stern as she used it to tug him back up.

"Yes, Carlene?"

"We have to get dressed," she told him firmly, thwarting his attempts to kiss her again. "Come on…save it for next time."

"Next time?"

She grabbed his hair again, wrenching his lips away from her neck. "We can get more condoms at Walmart."

"Yeah?"

"With sex this good, it would be irresponsible of us to not use them. I can think of a few things we could try. You know, to do the condoms justice."

Groaning, Rick closed his eyes with a grin. "Carrie…you'll kill me talking like that. I'm not kidding. They're going to find my corpse walkin' around with a hard on and a stupid look on it's face."

Laughing delightfully, she let him have one final kiss. "But what a way to go."

With Carrie putting an end to their time together, Rick reluctantly let her up. Still, it was difficult to not touch her, to not reach out and pull her hair over her shoulder, or to reluctantly do up the zip and button on her jeans, anything to stay close to her. Getting dressed took longer than it should have, the two of them taking their time to help one another, exchanging brief kisses of gratitude along the way. In the back of his mind Rick knew he should be rushing, that he should have dressed the moment he awoke and hastened back to the bunker. But irresponsibility was too tempting…Carrie was too tempting.

Finally they were dressed, Carrie lingering only to dab a little more foundation onto the bruise on her neck. Pocketing the small bottle, she accepted his hand as he held it out for her. He grasped it in his as they walked through the house, the lingering stench of the Walkers serving as the first reminder that they was re-entering reality.

"Do you think he noticed we're both still gone?" she asked, not needing to clarify who she was talking about.

"I don't know…even if he has, he's only fourteen. This won't be the first thing he thinks of."

As soon as they stepped outside, Rick let go of her hand, and they walked side by side with an innocent space in between them. Anyone watching couldn't possibly see their behaviour as anything other than platonic, unless of course they had more to go on. Looking up at the sky, he wasn't surprised to see that heavy clouds lingered over head…they should expect rain soon. It didn't matter though…nothing did today.

"By the way, be careful of that," she told him, gesturing to his face.

"What?" Concerned, he rubbed his hand over his face, wondering if there was something on it.

"The, 'I just got laid' look on your face…the post-sex glow."

Rick chuckled before clearing his throat, trying to fix an appropriate scowl on his face. "Is that better?"

"I wouldn't say better," she shrugged, preferring his former expression. "But effective."

He gave her a smile of exasperation before returning the scowl to his face, amused when she started laughing at him again. She quickly restrained herself though, knowing that there could be others awake despite the agreement that they could sleep in that day. As the barn drew nearer, Rick glanced at Carrie from the corner of his eye, hoping that it wouldn't get awkward. Everything had been so perfect, so easy between them…he didn't know what he would do if things started to get awkward when reality crept back in.

"How was watch?" Rick asked Abraham, unable to avoid walking past the truck. Looking at him apprehensively, he hoped for Carrie's sake that he didn't give them a hard time.

"Just fine," he nodded, flexing his neck as he sipped from a travel mug…someone had brought him coffee. "Carl came looking for you about half an hour ago. I told him that you went for a walk, and that Carrie's been on watch out back."

"Did he question that?" Rick asked in concern. He glanced at Carrie, waiting apprehensively.

"Nope. Shrugged his shoulders and went back to bed. Daryl's doing another perimeter check."

"Right," he breathed, looking at Carrie and sharing her relief. He knew Carl…if he shrugged his shoulders and went back to bed, he wasn't questioning anything he had been told.

"Well, on that note," Carrie said brightly, acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary. "Maybe you should start breakfast," she quipped, slapping him on the ass right in front of Abraham.

Departing with a sly grin, Carrie headed for the underground bunker and didn't look back, leaving Rick speechless as he watched her go. There was certainly an awkward moment now, Rick not entirely sure of where to look or what to do…he knew Abraham was watching him, no doubt about to ask him for details of the night he helped facilitate. He went to follow Carrie down to the bunker, but realised he'd have to wait for a minute or so at least. Resigning himself to whatever teasing Abraham wanted to unleash, he remembered the only awkward part of last night.

"Did Daryl say anything to you…about - "

"About him standing outside the window while you and Carrie were going at it?" Abraham chuckled. "He might'a mentioned a couple of racoons or something in there…making a hell of a noise."

"Right."

"Ain't never seen that man scared of a racoon though…shakin' in his boots, he was."

Rick groaned, confirming that Daryl had indeed seen something through the window. Abraham laughed at his expense, teasing him mercilessly.

"Come on, give me something," he pleaded, climbing down from the cabin. "If you two managed to scare Daryl, there must have been something freaky going on."

"I'm not telling you anything," Rick protested in embarrassment, deciding he had waited long enough. It wouldn't look suspicious if he entered the bunker now.

"How was sh - "

"No."

"Did she - "

"No."

"Alright, well you owe me an answer to this question at least. How many of my condoms are left, huh?"

Rick snorted, finally looking around at Abraham. "They're my condoms now."

"Come on, how many?"

Hesitating, Rick considered the answer, part of him wanting to shout about his night with Carrie to the entire world. "None."

Abraham let out a low whistle, clapping Rick on the shoulder. "Well done…you did me proud. Should have given you more, see how good you really are…"

Rolling his eyes, Rick shoved his hands into his pocket as he headed towards the bunker. "Fuck off," he swore uncharacteristically. "I'm an old man."

Shaking his head, Abraham rebuked this with wisdom. "Oh Rick, you're only as old as the woman you're sleeping with. You cooking her breakfast?"

Sighing to himself, Rick slowed to a stop, his hand drifting to his hip as he thought about this. He glanced over at the old chicken coop, wondering if someone had checked in there yesterday.

"Did she not earn a cooked breakfast?"

Against his better judgement, Rick turned and looked back at Abraham in exasperation, knowing what he was doing. "No…she'd earned it alright." He started heading back for the bunker again, muttering under his breath, "She earned it again and again."

* * *

Unlike every other day so far, that morning the occupants of the underground bunker did not awaken the moment the sun rose, forgoing their usual routine of getting up and preparing for the day. When Carrie entered the bunker for the first time since leaving it the night before, she was startled to find that it was almost as lifeless as it had been hours ago. The only person awake was Glenn, standing in the kitchen and drinking a cup of coffee. As she entered the living area she looked at him hesitantly, unsure of what he was going to say…she couldn't ever remember doing the walk of shame the morning after a one night stand, and although she was hopeful that it wouldn't be a one time thing, she felt sufficiently embarrassed.

"G'morning," Glenn whispered. He smirked at her in amusement, revelling in her embarrassment. Raising his mug of coffee, he silently offered her one.

Carrie just shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Gesturing to the bedroom, she looked at Glenn inquisitively, hoping he understood her question.

"I think he's asleep."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Carrie took off her jacket and divested herself of her weapons, putting them on the dining room table along with everyone else's. Entertaining the idea of going back to bed for a few hours, for she certainly felt she deserved it, she headed into the bathroom and quickly washed her face, careful not to smear the foundation that covered the bruise on her neck.. Still sneaking around, she headed for the bedroom, stopping in her tracks when she saw Rick had entered the kitchen. Wearily removing his duty belt, he was trying to hide a smile as Glenn fired whispered questions at him.

"No," he whispered insistently. "I'm a gentleman."

Amused by the two of them, Carrie announced her presence by strolling into the kitchen, looking them both in the eye with a polite smile. They fell silent as they watched her take a glass from the draining rack and then fill it from the kitchen tap. She turned around to look at them both as she drank gratefully, rehydrating as she reminded herself to take a bottle of water should she and Rick ever sneak off again.

"You pestering him for details?" she asked Glenn, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ignoring the way Rick rolled his eyes, Glenn nodded, trying not to laugh. Echoing his laugh, Carrie finished her drink and then rinsed her glass, aware of the fact that she had their full attention right now. Carefully considering what she was going to say, she turned around and looked at Rick, a smile still playing on her lips. There's no point in being coy…they've both just done the walk of shame right in front of him, and Glenn's smart enough to know that without discretion Carl would be hurt.

"I'll tell you this, Glenn," she whispered, beginning to walk past him. "He was not a gentleman three times."

Listening to Glenn whooping under his breath, Carrie headed for the bedroom, looking back only to see him clapping Rick on the shoulder. Trying to stifle her own laughter, for she too revelled in Rick's embarrassment, she took a deep breath before entering the bedroom, preparing herself to give an explanation for her absence if one was requested.

The bedroom was silent and dark, the air stuffy from the seven occupants who had slept there through the night. The only change she noted was that Carl had moved, taking up Glenn's place on the lower bunk bed. Seeing that the teen was fast asleep, she hastily took off her boots and left them in the corner with the others, blindly feeling her way around and praying that Michonne and Rosita hadn't spread out too much in her absence. Finding space on the edge of the bed, she slipped underneath the blankets and lay down, having to elbow Michonne aside just a little.

It was difficult for her to fall asleep, her mind still buzzing. She wished she was still back at the ranch house, stretched out on the bed next to Rick, finding warmth under the blanket and against his hot skin. It had been most pleasant waking up beside him, to let her eyes rake up and down body, taking in his shape and the damage this world had done to him. Despite her thoughts being entirely occupied, Carrie fell asleep a few minutes later, her body still trained to take the opportunity when presented. It was almost nine o'clock by the time they reluctantly rose from their beds, roused by Daryl who in his usual fashion made no apologies for the abrupt wake up call. Yawning widely as Michonne and Rosita stretched out beside her, Carrie was unsurprised to see that the first person responding to Daryl's grunted instructions was Carl, who simply rubbed his eyes and got out of the bunk. Picking up his crutches, he stood up and yawned widely, pausing to glance at Carrie.

Apparently unconcerned, Carl headed for the door on his crutches. "Shot gun the bathroom."

With the bathroom occupied, Aidan and Nicholas grabbed their jackets and headed outside, leaving the women to lay in bed just a little longer. While Rosita snuggled into her pillow with a plea for five minutes more, Michonne sat up and stretched her arms out, peering at Carrie in concern.

"Don't worry about him," Michonne muttered, referring to Carl. "He's just innocent enough that it wouldn't occur to him that his father was out getting laid."

"Mich," Carrie said urgently, suddenly sitting up. She glanced over at Rosita beside them, whose shoulders moved as she gave a short laugh.

"Oh please," she teased, turning her head to look at Carrie sleepily. "Abraham told me the moment he found out."

Shaking her heat to herself, Carrie yawned and rubbed her eyes…it was definitely more pleasant waking up beside Rick.

"So," Rosita began, wasting no time. "Factoring in effort, enthusiasm and stamina, how would you rate him?"

Stifling an embarrassed giggle, Carrie just shook her head in exasperation. "Effort, enthusiasm, and what?"

"Stamina."

"And how do I give this rating?" she laughed. "Is it like a points system, or do I give him a grade."

"Just tell us!" Michonne nagged impatiently, slipping her boots on.

"Well," she began thoughtfully, giving careful consideration to each of the factors. "I have to say it was a pretty good ten out of ten."

"And how many times was it a ten out of ten?" Rosita pressed.

Throwing off the blankets, Carrie hauled herself out of bed as she started blushing. Grinning at them, she held up three fingers as her answer, delighting in Rosita's muffled cheer. Feeling that her morning was just getting better with each passing moment, she set about preparing for the day ahead, hoping that it stayed on a good course. Though they often slept in their clothes, the luxury of clean laundry was awfully tempting, especially after last night. As she quickly changed her clothing, Michonne and Rosita lagging behind a little, Carrie thought about the rest of their journey to Alexandria, knowing they had at least another three days on the road. She wondered if there would be more opportunities for she and Rick to find some privacy once again, certain that he would be up for a second round. Though it didn't have to be a relationship with flowers and candles, it didn't exactly have to be limited to a one night stand if they were both keen.

As she dressed, she specifically chose a long sleeved shirt, having seen that the weather outside looked pretty foul. Pulling it on, she noted that it covered all the bruises Rick had given her but one, and so she kept the foundation in her pocket to touch it up throughout the day. Passing through the living room on her way to the bathroom, Carrie was surprised to find the kitchen in full operation, Rick, Aaron and Glenn bustling around and cooking. The scene looked awfully domesticated, giving them all a welcomed sense of homeliness. While she wanted to linger and watch them, to watch Rick in particular, a pressing need saw her heading off to the bathroom instead. Obtrusively knocking on the door, she yelled out and told Carl to hurry up, her request quickly echoed by the arrival of Michonne and Rosita.

When she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, it appeared that a small feast was being prepared, Glenn working on a growing pile of pancakes while Rick hovered by a pan on the stove, simultaneously toasting a loaf of bread they had cooked last night. When he turned around for something, Rick caught her eye, giving her a polite nod that gave no indication to the fact that a few hours ago they'd been naked together. It was a strange notion to consider, especially since it felt like the whole world had shifted underneath her feet and yet no one was acknowledging it.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she enquired.

Hearing her question, Rick turned back around and started to speak, but he was cut off when Tobin beat him to it. Somewhat pleased by the disappointment that flashed across Rick's face, Carrie happily set about helping Tobin take their packs and sleeping bags up to the cars, going about the normal routine of double checking the water and medical kits in each. Abraham and Daryl were still on watch, and while Daryl avoided her gaze, Abraham did the precise opposite.

"Good morning, Carrie," he greeted her for a second time, his tone overly polite and his smile a little too teasing. "Sleep well?"

"How could I not?" she shrugged, returning his smile as she glanced at Daryl. To her relief, he seemed to be ignoring her, though not unkindly. Thinking about what he might have seen last night, Carrie was glad for this. "All the cars have food, water, blankets and a medical kit."

"Good."

There was an awkward pause, thankfully broken by a whistle that summoned their attention. Looking round, she saw Nicholas standing in the threshold of the barn. "Breakfast is ready," he called out.

"You two coming down?" she enquired, knowing how long they'd been on watch for. "I can cover for you if you want."

Abraham just shook his head and raised his travel mug to her. "We're taken care of. Now you hurry on down there, Gorgeous. You've earned yourself a little somethin' something."

Raising her eyebrow at him, she tried to figure out what he meant. Judging by the expression on his face it was dirty, and she began to suspect what might be waiting for her in the underground bunker. When she got down stairs, the delicious smell of fresh scrambled eggs and pancakes had her mouth watering instantly. Michonne, Rosita and Carl sat at the table already eating, the former gesturing that the last chair had been set aside for her. Nodding, she headed for the kitchen where everyone was serving themselves from the small feast that had been prepared. Seeing that there was more than enough for everyone, she eagerly took a plate and piled on two pancakes and a piece of toast. The delicious aroma of the eggs tempted her over to the stove, the smell all the more tempting with the knowledge that the eggs were fresh from the chicken coop on the property, not powdered.

"How come she gets that, and we have to scrambled?" Glenn was complaining to Rick, though she got the sense it was only half-hearted.

"You know why," Rick hissed, spooning some scrambled eggs onto his plate. "She earned it."

As Glenn took his plate and headed for a seat in the living room, Carrie steeled herself before heading over to Rick, suspecting this was what Abraham had been referring to.

"Do I need to be concerned about the amount of giggling I could hear earlier?" Rick softly enquired, shuffling the pans around on the stove.

Carrie grinned, glad that the bedroom door had at least been closed. "No," she said quietly, seeing an open pack of Pot Tarts and helping herself to one. "With your effort, enthusiasm and stamina, you don't need to worry about a thing."

"Is that so?'

"Yes. So, what did I earn?" she enquired.

Rick's expression was one of friendly politeness, and he too was certainly adept at acting as though everything was normal. Giving her a perfectly platonic smile, he took up one of the smaller pans he had on the stove, silently gesturing for her plate. Thanking him, she held it out for him, and her eyes widened at what he had in the pan…it wasn't scrambled eggs. Unable to help herself, she grinned at him.

"That's what you earned," he smiled, a cheeky twinkle appearing in his eye as he slid the single egg onto her plate. "Sunny side up, as requested."

* * *

A/N Merry Christmas all! Thank you for the reviews for last chapter, and also for the reviews from new comers to this story. It's always great to hear readers have binged on 30 chapters in one weekend or something like that, so thanks for sharing your excitement and enthusiasm :-)


	35. Chapter 35

It was almost midday by the time they arrived at Walmart, the entire group going at a much slower pace than normal. Just as dinner had been the previous night, breakfast was a leisurely affair, everyone eating and drinking until they couldn't possibly take another bite. The opportunity to indulge themselves the way they were was rare, and with the security of the bunker and the enormous supply of food, they had taken complete advantage of it. It was a good choice too, for Carrie could tell that the group was exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Now though, after a shower, two good meals and a generous sleep in, the group was ready and raring to go, even though it took a while for them to get the motivation to actually leave the bunker. Nevertheless it had to be done, and when ten thirty came, Abraham clapped his hands together and gave them ten minutes to get their asses into gear. Under the threat of being left behind, the group hastily piled into the cars and made a hasty departure for the city of Franklin. Still having a good amount of gas in their tanks, siphoning more from the gas station didn't take quite as long as it normally did, the tedious task completed at record speed despite the five vehicles that needed to be filled.

It was only then that they eagerly headed for Walmart. The city of Franklin appeared to have fallen quickly, the effects of which meant that the streets were jammed up with abandoned vehicles. Having thought ahead, Rick and the others had checked out the town yesterday afternoon, their work at clearing a path meaning that the large convoy of vehicles moved about the city with ease. The only annoyance was the Walkers, of which there seemed to be plenty. Largely penned in by the traffic jam of cars, they were quite the nuisance, forcing the group to fire a couple of flares to prevent them following the convoy to Walmart.

The shooting lesson Rick had given her had paid off, and with the support and encouragement of the others, Carrie found herself happily standing on top of minivan when they opened the doors to Walmart, helping the others gun down the Walkers that emerged. Though she still carried her machete and knife, knowing she would fall back on her preferred weapons if she ever needed to, she was confident as she took aim at each Walker, taking a moment to line up her sights and take a proper shot.

Even with suppressors in use, the gunfire was startlingly loud, no doubt alerting every Walker in the vicinity to their presence there. Nevertheless it was a necessary risk given that the Walkers inside the store just kept coming, the fallen piling up on one another as they were taken out. It took less than a minute to take care of the initial influx of Walkers, and a minute more after that to take care of the stragglers. When they appeared to have all been taken care of, Glenn tentatively stepped over the dead Walkers and peered through the doors. There was absolute silence as he walked through the doors and placed a kitchen timer in the middle of the floor, the buzzing making it jump around noisily. Hoping to get the attention of every Walker that might still be inside, Glenn shone his flashlight through the darkness, flicking it on and off a few times.

A moment later Glenn came back outside, shrugging at them. "We'll have to do a sweep ourselves."

Nodding in agreement, Rick turned to the others. "Let's check for head shots," he requested, gesturing to the pile of Walkers. "Carl, you keep watch on the doors…Nicholas, you watch the car park."

The rest of them quickly set to work, dragging the Walkers away from the doors and dumping them aside. Just as Rick had worried, a few of the Walkers were still active, knocked over by the others falling, or shots that didn't quite reach the centre of the brain. They disposed of them quickly, their work stalled only by the arrival of three more that finally came out of the depths of the store. Taking expert care, Carl shot each of them before they could get close to the others, the teen taking them out the moment their heads came into sight.

"We'll do a full sweep of the building in two teams," Abraham told them when they had finished moving the Walkers. Exhausted, they stood by the entrance doors, eagerly anticipating what they might find inside. "It's very dark, there're lots of places that Walkers might be hiding."

"Lurkers," Daryl added, reminding Carrie of the one she had encountered on her first day with them in Silverpine, and those in the Big Spot.

"Exactly. We'll do a full sweep, clear the aisles as we go. Once we've got a good idea of what's left, we'll prioritise what to get first. Fill a cart, bring it out and dump it. Rinse and repeat."

"Let's get this over with," Rick began now, looking around at the groups. "Rosita, Nicholas. You two head to the intersection, keep an eye on the amount of Walkers coming our way. Take a radio and a rifle each. Tobin, you stay here with Carl to watch the carpark and back them up."

Looking around at them, Abraham decided on two teams. "Aidan, Aaron and Glenn. You're with me. Daryl, Michonne, Carrie…you're with Rick."

"Let's do this already," Daryl grunted impatiently, holding his crossbow ready. "Ain't got all day."

They formed their particular groups, Carrie's cheeks reddening as Michonne gave her a knowing smile. She busied herself by loading her gun and checking the safety, trying not to watch Rick out of the corner of her eye. He stood by the removal truck, tossing Carl and Tobin a radio and spare magazines before giving Carl a few stern instructions. Carl said something in reply, Tobin's booming laugh determining that it was humorous. Suppressing a smile, Carrie turned her attention back to her group and slipped her gun into her leg holster.

"Here," Daryl grunted, passing her a set of thick gloves. He looked her up and down, determining that her clothing would protect her in the event that they were taken by surprise.

"Thanks," she said, suddenly feeling awkward. Looking from Michonne, who smiled in that knowing way, and back to Daryl who was pointedly avoiding her gaze, she started to feel embarrassed. Michonne was far too gleeful about Carrie's late night tryst with Rick, and Daryl had….he had seen them.

"What's wrong?" Rick enquired, joining them and sensing the awkwardness too.

"Nothing," she replied quickly, clearing her throat as she pulled her gloves on. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he said in confusion. He looked between the three of them, and realisation slowly dawned on him, coming to the same conclusion as Carrie. As he too cleared his throat awkwardly, he passed them each a flashlight. "Come on. Let's go."

With everyone in falling into position, Carrie traced her hand over her machete and knife, reassuring herself that they were there. Holding her gun carefully, for she still didn't completely trust it, she followed Rick and the others into Walmart, her boots slipping a little on the blood and viscera on the floor. It stank of death inside, but it was a familiar smell by now, one that no longer took her by surprise. Shining their lights around, the group took in the sheer volume of the store.

"Mother Di…" Abraham began, trailing off when he looked at Carrie. He cleared his throat. "I mean, God Bless America."

"You're such a gentleman, Abe," she quipped, she too looking around in awe. "And I think you mean, God-fucking-Bless America."

Shaking his head, Abraham readjusted his grip on his rifle and looked around. "We'll take the right…you lot go left. Double check the dead ones, and inspect every nook and cranny for active ones…every change room, every office, behind every counter. Don't open any doors without back up, and…"

Letting Abraham run through his list, Carrie tried to keep her attention focused on the store, on looking down the aisles and determining their route. It was becoming awfully difficult to stay focused, especially with Rick standing right beside her. Like an infatuated teen, she couldn't stop thinking about the previous night, and that morning too. It had been so long since she had real sex that it was easy to forget how good it could be. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she wondered if he was thinking about the same thing, if he was remembering too. He must have been dwelling on it at some stage for this morning he seemed happier and more amenable in general…typical man.

Last night, he had laughed. There had been lots of laughter, thankfully not directed at each other, but with one another. He had smiled too, an action that had become rare in this world. Most often his smile was only half genuine, forced for the benefit of others. But not last night, and not this morning either. Thinking on the unusually cheerful demeanour he had adopted, Carrie couldn't help but feel proud of herself for doing that for him.

The groups split up as planned, and Rick's methodically made their way around the left hand side of the store. They talked loudly and rattled shelves, drawing out the Lurkers that were hidden amongst the aisles. Taking down two with ease, they proceeded on, taking note of the goods that have been left behind. Just like Aidan had told them, North Carolina had fallen in less than a day, and while Walmart had been the target of frightened shoppers, this was to their advantage. Corpse after corpse littered the ground, telling the story of how the store had been overrun until someone closed the doors and chained the security gates. A gentle nudge was all it took to make sure the corpses weren't Lurkers, and as they went they methodically moved them all aside, making clear paths for them to bring their carts down later.

The pharmacy and garden centre were relatively in tact, Michonne and Rick checking the back shelves where there were plenty of prescription medications left. Heading further in, they passed the homewares and the automotive section, taking careful note of what remained in each. Reaching the back of the store they came across the sporting section, something catching Daryl's attention. Waving them over, he shone his flashlight into some glass cabinets, the reflection momentarily blinding her.

"That's the shit I'm talkin' about," he said in satisfaction, raking his eyes over the large display case of crossbows. He gave a very rare smile, but typical of Daryl, it only lasted a moment. "Hey, Rick…this one would suit Carl."

Taking a look, Rick nodded in approval. "Thank you."

It appeared they held an entire conversation in only two sentences, something typical of people who had navigated this world together since the very beginning. Being as thorough as possible they moved through every single aisle, but it seemed the further back in the store they went the fewer Walkers there were, dead or alive. It even smelled better further back, a convenient advantage given that's where the clothing was. As they passed the children's section on their way to meet up with Abraham, Carrie noticed the way Rick slowed down a little, his eyes roving over the racks of dresses and hair accessories. But as quickly as he had slowed he was paying attention again, marching onward as the others appeared ahead.

"Find much?" Michonne asked them.

"There's plenty of food left in the grocery section…just don't go near the refrigerated aisle," Aaron grimaced. "What did you find?

Rick answered first, starting to run through their list. "Pharmacy looks well stocked, there're some weapons and ammunition left…there's more here than we expected, but that doesn't change anything. Essentials first. Food, medicine, weapons."

"Let's split in twos," Abraham decided. "Each take a section, fill a cart. And for the record, if anyone puts alcohol in their cart before essentials are packed, not even Pete will be able to excise my foot from your ass."

He looked at Aidan as he said that, who at least had the decency to look a little chastised. "Got it."

"Good. Let's go."

There was a slight murmur of agreement, everyone looking around for empty shopping carts they could take advantage of. Carrie and Rick glanced at each other, wondering if teaming up together would look too obvious. But to her relief, Michonne stepped in first and slung her arm around Daryl's shoulder.

"Come on Dixon, you're with me."

"Get off me," he grunted, shrugging her arm off his shoulder. Still avoiding eye contact with Rick and Carrie, he grabbed a shopping cart and told Michonne to hurry up. "We'll take weapons."

There was a short pause in which they looked at each other, Rick trying to keep his expression platonic. "Pharmacy?" he suggested, glancing over at Glenn and Aidan who already seemed to be arguing.

Carrie gave in to her urge to smile. "Why not?"

They lingered for a long moment, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally Carrie moved, taking an abandoned shopping cart and looking at its contents. There was a slab of bottled water which she left there, but cleared out the rest of the items and dumped them onto the floor. Giving Rick a lingering look, she set off down the wide aisles back the way they had come. They quickly caught up to Daryl and Michonne, the glass cabinets shattering as they broke in to retrieve the weapons. Leaving them behind, Rick and Carrie turned the corner and headed in the opposite direction as he fell into step beside her. It wasn't long before he reached for her, running his hand down her lower back before slipping it into the back pocket of her jeans. He gave her a small smirk before checking over his shoulder, paranoid that someone would see them.

"Can I help you, Derrick?"

"That's yet to be determined," he replied, his smirk twisting into a grimace at her use of his full name. She loved using his full name, knowing how much it annoyed him.

Enjoying the reaction she got from him, she let him feel her up, trying not to laugh as he raised his hand to tickle the skin on her lower back. He kept this up until they reached the pharmacy, reluctantly taking his hand back in favour of getting a second shopping cart. Without a word they split up, Rick heading for the prescription medicines while Carrie checked out what was left in the aisles. In the panic of the outbreak, there had been a rush for medical items as people tried to flee, but to her surprise there was still plenty left. Aside from a few broken shelves and some corpses on the floor, it was relatively intact, looters having been unable to access it after the doors had closed..

Not concerned about conserving space, for determining what ultimately made it onto the trucks was Abraham's burden, Carrie grabbed anything that might be of use. Medicines, first aid items, toiletries…it was all tossed in, Carrie not wanting to waste too much time. Heading into the next aisle, she smiled as she shone her flashlight among an array of baby items. Her eyes scanning the shelves of pacifiers, bottles and teething rings, Carrie glanced up at the back of the store where Rick was, wondering what things he would need for Judith. Her heart swelling more than expected, she picked up one of the tiny toothbrushes, observing the soft bristles and trying to imagine a baby's teeth. She never had much to do with children before, but babies in particular. Growing up as an only child, she had no siblings to play with, and subsequently no nieces and nephews.

"Rick?" she called out, not trusting herself to decide what to take and what to leave.

"What's wrong?" he asked, by her side less in seconds.

"Baby stuff. That's your field of expertise."

He scoffed at this, but looked nonetheless, Carrie watching as his expression softened. Quickly making decisions, he grabbed some of everything. Pacifiers, teethings rings, shampoo, diaper rash creams, powder…it all went in the shopping cart .

"Are there any other babies in Alexandria?"

He shook his head. "Maybe one day. Did you get children's Tylenol?" he asked, tossing all the items into her cart. He grabbed some thermometers before turning to diapers and wipes.

"I got everything," she promised. "Even the little syringes for dosage."

"Thank you." Getting a new shopping cart, he almost cleared the shelves of the diapers, wipes and every kind of formula, but in typical Rick fashion, he left adequate amounts for others. Earlier she had heard him telling the others to leave some food behind.

"I err…I left Tylenol and a few other things behind," she spoke up, feeling the need to tell him.

"I noticed," he smiled, his gaze lingering a moment before he turned back to the shelves. Together they moved on up the aisle, coming to adult toothbrushes and paste. Letting her push the cart, he tossed the supplies in. "Every bottle of formula we gave Judith was scavenged one or two tins at a time. She wouldn't be here if others hadn't left it for us…not with Lori gone."

"There're good people out there."

"Some," he agreed. He paused now, a smile still lingering as he turned away and continued. "Would you believe me if I told you Daryl was the first to feed her a bottle?"

"No," she scoffed, slowly realising he was being serious. "Really? Daryl?"

"Yeah. He's got the touch when it comes to her."

"Why didn't you give her the first bottle?"

"I was…" he began, hesitating a little. "I was with Lori. I didn't see Judith until the next day."

Carrie just nodded, unsure of what to say. "You sound like you feel guilty for that," she stated boldly, hoping she didn't press the wrong topic too hard.

The expression on his face was not annoyance or anger, but exasperation. "Stop reading my mind," he scolded her. They carried on through the pharmacy, returning to the shopping cart full of prescription medicines he had abandoned momentarily. "I do, sometimes."

"Why? Weren't you entitled to grieve?"

"Sure. Excessive guilt is a normal part of being a parent. I still feel guilty for the time Carl fell off his bike ten years ago…he had to get six stitches."

Shaking her head in amusement, Carrie followed him through the aisles, swapping the cart out for a new one when it was full. The new one had a wobbly wheel, and she struggled to keep it straight as she followed Rick down the aisles. When he stopped suddenly to grab something from a shelf Carrie accidentally bumped the back of him leg, having been preoccupied by checking out his ass. He glanced up at her, an amused smile crossing his face when he saw her expression.

"Sorry," she said demurely, her eyes darting back down to his ass. She didn't have to hide her ogling right now.

"You don't look sorry," he shook his head, tossing some hand sanitiser into the trolley.

When he turned forward and continued down the aisle, Carrie made a point of bumping him again, and when he turned around and looked at her incredulously, her intent was clear.

"Okay, now I know you're not sorry," he said lowly, facing her properly. Looking at her with challenge in his eyes, he put his hands on the front of her shopping cart and leant towards her. "Is this flirting? Are you flirting with me?"

Echoing his stance, Carrie too leant forward over the handles. "Got a problem with that?" she asked slowly, enunciating each word.

Giving the cart a swift shove, she grinned when he yielded and let it hit him in the knees, pretending to be hurt. An idea coming to mind, she told him to stay put and then headed into the next aisle. She was going there next anyway, but why not give him a preview of what was there? She quickly made her choice, smiling as she looked at him over the top of the shelf. Coming back around to him, she grinned and threw the box at him. Catching it, his eyes grew wide as he looked at the packet of condoms, a mixture of alarm and excitement crossing his face.

"Seriously?" he asked, his voice sounding a little weak.

"Why not?"

"But here?"

"Why not?"

"Well," he began, his eyes darting up to the ceiling as though racking his brains. "Err…there could be Walkers, or-"

"Is there an office back there?"

He hesitated, beginning to smile. "Yes."

Coming forward now, she kept her hands strictly to herself as she came and stood right in front of him. "So? What's the problem?"

Looking torn, Rick hesitated again, and Carrie felt disappointment when she saw that he had made his decision. His expression was sorely apologetic as he tossed the condoms into the shopping cart and came towards her. "We can't now. It's not a good time."

Reluctantly accepting this, she instead settled for the kiss he offered next. Making sure she got her fill of him for now, she kissed him deeply, letting her arms wind around his neck while his did the same to her hips. It would have to be enough to quell the sudden excitement her idea had brought her, and accepting his refusal, she allowed him to break the kiss when he tried. Just as he had been all morning, he was smiling when he pulled back and looked at her, brushing his lips across hers one last time.

"We'll find a better time?" she suggested hopefully.

He just nodded before letting her go and heading off down the aisle, but the ghost of the smile that lingered on his face was enough to keep her happy. It was an ego boost to see the effect she had on him, that her suggestion of them sneaking off for a quickie had definitely taken him by surprise. Trying to refocus, Carrie grabbed a few more bottles of hand sanitiser and then moved on down the aisle. The shelves weren't exactly tall, and even with only their flashlights to illuminate the pharmacy, Carrie could see Rick in the aisle beside her. He had slowed to a stop in the very centre of it, and when she realised what it was he was looking at she nearly burst out laughing.

Looking up from the shelves of condoms, he flexed his jaw as they made eye contact. There was a long moment in which they simply looked at each other, and Carrie could practically see his resolve crumbling away. He looked away and swallowed heavily, clearly trying to reason with himself as his breathing became heady. With a long sigh that she recognised as defeat, he reached for the radio on his hip.

"Carl? Is everything alright out there?"

There was a long moment before he replied, and as Rick waited he looked up at her in exasperation. She loved that he was always so concerned, that he took every measure to ensure that his group were alright if he were dropping his guard. It reinforced everything she knew about him, everything that she trusted about him.

"Jesus, Dad, pay attention," Carl replied in frustration. "Abraham just asked me that."

Rick laughed shortly. "I love you too, Carl." Putting his radio back on his belt, he beckoned Carrie to join him in the other aisle. "You're a bad influence on me," he scolded her.

"Me? I just made the suggestion."

She stood by his side and watched as he reached for a packet of condoms, hesitating at the last moment. He glanced at her with a grin, taking his sweet time to choose which pack he wanted. Just as she was about to tell him to hurry up, he finally made his choice, the assorted pack greatly meeting her approval. Relieved, she thanked him with a searing kiss, grabbing hold of his shirt and not letting him away. He kissed her back now, satisfied that everyone else in their group was alright, Carl in particular. Pushing his jacket aside, she began opening the buttons on his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. Before she could do much more, the radio at his side crackled, Abraham's voice making him lurch in surprise.

"Everyone getting on alright?"

Michonne and then Glenn replied, confirming that they were fine as Rick hastened to pull away from Carrie's kiss. He hastily stepped back and he reached for the button on the radio, not bothering to take it off his hip.

"We're fine here too," he said loudly. Releasing the button, he opened the cardboard box and pulled out the long chain of condoms, clutching them as he went to kiss her again.

"You need any help in the pharmacy?" Abraham asked.

Trying not to laugh, Carrie watched as Rick's face contorted in frustration and panic. This time he grabbed the radio from his belt, taking a deep breath before he began speaking. Carrie however, shrugged her jacket off and tugged at the hem of her shirt, the move distracting him for a moment. Keeping eye contact, she grinned as she turned and walked towards the back of the store, looking over her shoulder as she went.

"No," he said a little too quickly, hastening to follow her. "We're fine."

"Are you sure?" Michonne's voice came next, a hint of a tease coming through. "I can come and help you right now, if you-"

"Just leave us to it, alright?" Rick's voice was strained, trying to stay level as he followed Carrie into the dark, and blissfully empty, office. He closed the door loudly.

Enjoying his frustration, Carrie unbuttoned her shirt but didn't take it off. There wouldn't be time for that…they'd have to be quick. Rick dumped his radio and flashlight to the ground as he came to her, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as his hands went straight for her jeans. It was difficult to keep the smile off their faces, both of them racing to get the necessary clothing removed. Just like last night, Carrie wrestled with Rick's two belts, finally making them cooperate. As his duty belt fell to the floor with a heavy thud, they pushed one another's jeans down, their lips never parting for long.

"You're a very bad influence on me," he scolded again, sliding his tongue into her mouth as they kissed again.

She nodded in agreement, stumbling as she kicked off her boots and freed one foot from her jeans. "Desk. Now."

He picked her up by the back of her thighs, making her squeal in surprise as she grabbed for him. Setting her onto the desk, Rick didn't even bother clearing away the paper and books. "It's very small."

"That's not what she said."

Rick groaned, silencing her sass with a kiss. "I was talking about the desk."

"Ah huh," she nodded. Taking charge, she snatched the chain of condoms from his hand and tore one open.

"A bad influence…and good for my ego," he sighed, watching as she rolled the condom onto him. Going slowly, he pressed himself into her with a hiss of pleasure. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"Don't know," she shrugged, her eyes drifting shut. "Just don't mark me up again."

"Can't make any promises," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Sealing his lips across hers, Rick started thrusting inside her, his forehead coming to rest against hers. It felt profoundly intimate to be hidden away just the two of them, and it went some way to satiating the need she had felt for him ever since they had parted ways that morning. While rushed and secretive, they simply made the best of their opportunity, and when they redressed a short while later they made the effort of checking one another's appearance. While Carrie applied some fresh foundation to the bruise on her neck, Rick roughly neatening his hair as he stuffed the rest of his condoms safely into his pocket.

They emerged from the pharmacy office as though nothing was amiss, and simply got back to work…but with a little extra spring in their step.

* * *

Finding solitude in the dark shelves of the Home Security aisle, Rick consulted his list of required items and cast his flashlight around the shelves. Despite their desire to get their work at Walmart done as soon as possible, it was increasingly difficult to Rick to concentrate, let alone to get rid of the dumb smile that seemed to have plastered itself on his face. The knowledge of what he and Carrie had done, in the Walmart pharmacy no less, both exhilarated and astounded him. The old Rick would have never done something like that, would have never let his guard down to indulge in something as gratuitous as sex, even good sex. Last night had been different, as he had ensured their safety well beforehand. Though today he had paused long enough to ensure that Carl and the rest of the group were okay, his actions were irresponsible…reckless. Hell, they could have been caught.

Then again…perhaps that's what made it so good.

Judging by the disgusting look of pride on Michonne's face, she suspected what had gone on, what he had been doing only two hours ago. In discomfort Rick pictured she and Daryl talking about it, gossiping and making a big deal out of his private business…God, what if Daryl told her what he saw last night? Shaking his head to himself, Rick felt a little reassured. He knew Daryl…he'd never tell a soul what he saw, partly out of respect, and partly from sheer embarrassment. Looking back down the aisle the way he had come, he wondered where Carrie was now and what she was doing. The last he had seen of her she was outside with Abraham and Rosita, helping them sort out the shopping carts full of supplies they bad brought from the pharmacy.

Refocusing, he turned his attention back to the shelves in the Home Security aisle, scanning the various boxes for the one phrase he absolutely needed to see. It was strange to be disregarding the price tags on each of these items, his eyes widening as he shone his flashlight over a few of them. Some of these systems cost more than his monthly wage…but it wasn't the quality of the cameras or even the size of the hard drive that mattered to him most. There was one specification he needed more than anything else, and that was -

"Software included," he muttered in relief, finally seeing it written on one of the boxes.

He set his flashlight on the shelf and took the box off the shelf, looking at it in the beam of light. The Walkers with W on their foreheads were never far from Rick's thought, their presence foreboding another enemy that was right on their horizons. Rick and his group were not naive, and knew that Alexandria was a target for whoever it was doing this to Walkers. Hell, they could have attacked Alexandria already, making a move the moment they lost almost a dozen of their strongest members. That's what had prompted Rick's desire to set up surveillance outside the walls, and it had only been an off hand comment that Eugene over heard that set the desire into motion.

Eugene may not be a scientist, but he did know a hell of a lot of…stuff. With the right cables, hardware and computers, he assured Rick that it was possible to set up a surveillance system even without wireless technology. Trusting him, though he hadn't often proved himself worthy, Rick had told him to make a list of items required. Reading the details on the surveillance system, he checked it against the list Eugene had given him, mentally ticking off each item. Software included, battery operated, high resolution, night vision and a one terabyte hard drive. As an unexpected bonus, the cameras were weatherproof.

Satisfied, Rick gave the box another once over, scrutinising the colour of each camera. They would have to paint them…there was no use in keeping an eye on their surroundings if anyone hanging about could see they were under surveillance. Placing the box into his cart, Rick took the other boxes too, wanting to make sure they had more than enough. Consulting the remainder of Eugene's list, he moved on down the aisle, collecting every extension cable he could fin. Looking at the shopping cart full of cameras, cables and security lights, Rick knew they would have a lot of work to do once they got home to Alexandria. Not only were they going to work on expanding the walls, he had plans to start setting up safe houses in surrounding areas, just in case something went wrong.

The hardest part of the safe houses would be convincing the Alexandrians they were necessary. Rick suddenly thought about the children that resided within the walls, uncomfortably aware of just how vulnerable they were. None of them could drive a car, and he doubted they knew how to properly wield a hand gun. They had to learn these things, or else their chances of survival if things went wrong were very low. His heart clenching, he thought of the children that had lived in the prison, wondering where they were, if they were alright…none of them had come back. Aside from Luke and Molly who they had found dead, he didn't know the fate of any. They had been trained…they knew the basics of driving a car and using a gun…perhaps they were alright. For a brief moment he thought of Lizzie and Mika, wondering what had happened to them. Daryl had glimpsed them carrying Judith as the prison fell, and then never again.

Urging himself back into action, Rick carried on. He pushed his heavy cart back into the large aisle with the others that were full, waiting for someone else to come and collect them. Looking into another one that hadn't been there a few minutes ago, he noted that Glenn had found the large batteries they would need to help power some of their endeavours. Leaving them be, he found another empty cart and headed for the computer section. As before, he collected any cable and accessory that looked like it would attach to a computer. USBs, hard drives, adaptors…he had little idea of what they could be used for, but he put them in his cart nonetheless, suspecting he might regret it if he didn't.

"Any luck?" Glenn asked, joining Rick as he broke into one of the cabinets holding the computers.

"Plenty," he answered, pulling white boxes out and dumping them on the customer service bench. "You any good with computers?"

"Good enough."

"Find me a Macbook Pro…the ones on Eugene's list."

Sorting through the boxes, Glenn set a few aside before finding the one Eugene had requested. "God, I would have loved one of these," he said reverently, placing three of the boxes into the cart. "They were so damn expensive though."

Rick just shrugged, handing him more boxes and hoping they were the right ones. Glenn put a few more into the cart and then consulted the list, frowning. "He wants a Mac and a Windows? Why?"

"I don't know," Rick shrugged again, casting his eyes over the iPods. He missed the MP3 player that used to drown out the noise of the Walkers while he worked in the gardens, and an iPod would certainly prevent Carl from trying to play his music in the house. "What's the difference?" he asked, grabbing all of the iPods and throwing them into the cart too.

"What's the diff-" Glenn began in outrage, trailing off with a sigh. "There's a big difference."

"Just get what Eugene wants. And, hey…have you heard of a Time Machine? Is that an actual thing, or is he just shitting me?"

Glenn snorted and rolled his eyes. "He means a Time Capsule, and yes, it's a real thing. I'll get it."

They made quick work of Eugene's list, Glenn fetching another shopping cart and filling that up too. Thinking about their vehicles, Rick wondered how on earth they were all going to fit all of their supplies inside. They had been pleasantly surprised to find a significant amount of long life food in the grocery section, which unfortunately was taking up a great deal of space. Aside from that, they had collected a great deal of clothing and general supplies for the people of Alexandria…basic necessities like toilet paper and dishwashing liquid had been found. Then there were the supplies Rick and his group insisted on bringing back, essential items they would need to fully stock the safe houses they wanted to set up. Camping lanterns, solar powered batteries, knives and bows, sleeping bags, blankets…they all took up space and added weight…there was only so much they could fit in. Thinking about the many packs of diapers he wanted to take back, he hoped they were able to fit them, dreading the thought of having to switch to cloth.

When they were finally done with Eugene's list they headed back to the centre aisle where the other shopping carts were, finding Daryl waiting for them. Impatient, he had lit a cigarette as he waited.

"I got camouflage nets," he showed them. "Reckon they'll be good all cut up…wrap 'em round the surveillance stuff. Got some huntin' cameras too."

"Don't they only take still shots?"

"Yeah, motion detection and all that, but their batteries last for ages. Reckon they'll be good to keep an eye on things further out, you know…the roads. Best know what's out there."

"That's good," Rick agreed, giving the cameras a once over.

"They need memory cards though. SD?"

"Got them." Casting his eyes over the eight shopping carts they had collected, scrutinising the contents in the dark. "We're almost done then?"

"Yeah," Glenn said. As he spoke he opened their extensive list of general supplies, and he pointed to the items in each cart. "We got surveillance cameras, every cable and extension cord in the store, solar powered security lights, heavy duty batteries, waterproof battery boxes, portable solar panels and batteries, duct tape. Portable generators are already on the trucks. Camping equipment including battery powered lanterns, solar powered lanterns, flashlights, coolers, portable stoves, binoculars…Daryl, did you get the peep holes for the fences?"

"Yeah, they're in there…" he grunted.

"Peep holes…I got the electronic deadbolts you wanted, Rick. Everything else is already being packed. Food, medicine, weapons are done…paper goods, Tobin and Daryl took care of the automotive section…"

Not needing to hear Glenn go through the rest of their expansive list of goods, Rick was satisfied that had all they needed. Stepping away from them, he took out his radio and called for Carl.

"Yeah Dad?"

"You can come inside now."

There was a short pause, Rick looking around the empty shelves as he waited for Carl to respond.

"I'm coming…Abraham wants to know how much more you've got to bring out? He's kind of freaking out right now."

"Why?"

"Because of all this stuff. Tobin's looking at one of the vans in the carpark…I think we need more room."

"If Tobin's getting a van ready, then ask Abraham what he's complaining about."

"I can't ask him that, he'll kill me with his devil eyes."

"No, he likes you."

Waiting to hear the next reply, Rick wandered a little further away and looked around. Once they had all of these carts outside they could start taking some personal items, things they wanted purely for themselves. His priorities were already planned out…first Carl, and then Judith. Perhaps if there was time he would try to find himself a new pair of boots…eventually the ones he owned now would give up trying to hold together. They had already cleared out most of the clothing and shoes, if he didn't have any luck there'd be something back in Alexandria he could take from the pantry. He glanced at one of their shopping carts and made a mental note to ensure that Michonne was the one who took it. Buried underneath all of the supplies was a skateboard he had chosen for Carl's birthday in August, though he doubted he'd wait that long before giving it to him. He'd seen him riding Ron's skateboard, and he was quite good on it, making Rick wonder how he had developed the skill. He sure as hell didn't learn it from Patrick.

"I'll tell you what the fuck I'm complaining about!" Abraham's voice thundered down the radio. "The metric fuck-tonne of shit you keep sending out! Where am I supposed to put all of this, Grimes? I'm not Mary - freakin' - Poppins!"

"Well you know what they say about Walmart."

"Don't even think about coming to me for another favour. I am all out of favours for you."

Rick laughed, seeing Carl and Michonne coming down the aisle towards them. "I don't need your favours," he retorted, knowing exactly what Abraham was referring to. "I've got Walmart now."

"He's pretty stressed out," Carl told him, shining his flashlight around the enormous building. There was a look of wonder on his face, his eyes scanning what was left on the shelves. As he cast his flashlight upward, Rick placed a hand on his and stopped him.

"Don't," he requested, not wanting his son to see the corpse hanging by the neck from one of the overhead beams.

"What is it?" Carl asked, shining his flashlight elsewhere instead.

"Nothing I want you looking at," he replied plainly, steering Carl towards the shopping carts. Taking his crutches for him, he laid them across the shopping cart where he could still reach them. "Go on, take these out to Abe. Once we're done, we'll get some stuff for us."

"A crib?"

"Yes," he promised, knowing how much Carl wanted his sister to have a proper crib to sleep in.

Rick felt the same. He had walked past the baby section and his instincts had kicked in…once he had found Carl a few things, Rick wanted nothing more than to spoil his little girl, to give her everything she needed and plenty that she didn't. Aside from making sure she had plenty of clothes to grow into over the next few years, she would need toys…blocks wouldn't amuse her forever…with a groan he thought of her most recent favourite past time, getting into the kitchen cupboards. Five seconds was all it took for Judith to pull out all the plastic ware and toss it across the floor, delighting in her father's frustration. Reminding himself to get some supplies to baby-proof the house, Rick took a cart and followed Michonne and Carl outside. Leaving Daryl and Glenn to do another check of the store, Rick squinted and shielded his eyes as he emerged outside. The brightness was momentarily overwhelming, especially after spending the last few hours inside the dark store with only flashlights to see by.

"Oh, come on," Abraham sighed, jumping down from the back of the removal truck. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this shit?"

Rick didn't bother telling him not to swear in front of Carl, something he hated immensely. Instead he smiled, finding it difficult to get too annoyed that day.

"Don't come to me with your problems." Taking a proper look around, he noted that the removal and military trucks were almost full, Rosita scowling as she tossed individual items into every nook and cranny she could see. "Just pack it."

"Uh uh, wait!" Abraham griped, stopping Rick as he made to go back inside. "You want to know what I'm complaining about? I'm complaining about gas."

"You're in charge of that."

"Heavier vehicles need more gas. We're going to have to take a different route back to Alexandria, go through more populated areas so that there're more gas stations."

"Do whatever you have to do. Talk it over with Aaron."

Abraham sighed, his fists clenched as he turned around and surveyed the area. Nicholas and Aidan were on watch down by the intersection, while Carrie was bustling around helping Rosita. Catching his eye, she gave him a quick wink before turning back to work, saying something to Rosita that made her laugh.

"How many more carts in there?" Abraham asked dejectedly, Carl and Michonne returning with more.

"Not many."

"Don't avoid the question."

"Then I plead the fifth."

Departing before he could upset Abraham any more, Rick and Carl headed back inside. Heading straight to the clothing section, they took their pick of what they wanted, though they chose to take only the essentials. Scrutinising his son and seeing that the hem of his jeans only reached the top of his ankles, Rick sighed as he tried to figure out what size he'd need. Clothing had always been Lori's job, Rick and Carl always magically finding new clothing in their wardrobe as they were required. The notion that Carl was growing surprised him, though really it shouldn't have…soon enough he'd reach a height that no longer made his shoulder suitable as an arm rest.

Working quickly, they collected everything Carl would need, and he didn't bother looking at any clothing for himself. He knew Michonne…she and Carol had most likely discussed this before they left Alexandria, and he suspected he'd find a few sets of clothing in his pack that day, socks in particular. Carol was always complaining about the state of his socks these days, and how quickly he managed to wear holes into them. They finished up with some shoes, and in ten minutes flat they both had new boots in the cart, though Rick knew they'd both be reluctant to swap them out for their current ones. For now, the boots he wore were still in one piece…he'd wear them until the day they fell apart around his feet.

"Dad, do you think I could have one of those iPods, please?" Carl asked politely, the empty display case catching his attention as they walked past. "When we get back to Alexandria."

Looking at him sidelong, Rick produced a small plastic case from his back pocket and handed it to him, enjoying his gasp of astonishment.

"Woah…you got the touch screen. Thanks Dad."

"I don't know how you'll download any games for it," he apologised, one of the many times they had lamented their lack of Internet connection.

"It's easy…Olivia has some on her computer."

Rick shrugged, figuring that Carl would know what to do with it. "I got one of the smaller ones for myself…You'll need to set it up for me."

"Yeah, cool…" Carl muttered, beginning to frown a moment later. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. "Shouldn't we wait until we get back though? Let Olivia give these out?"

"No," Rick shook his head. "Essentials are rationed, but supply runners get to keep whatever luxuries they find."

Carl nodded in understanding. "Is that why Michonne's getting that cappuccino machine?"

"Yes," Rick laughed, picturing the monstrous machine Michonne wanted to put in their kitchen. "Glenn's getting one for their house too."

Carrying on through the store, they headed for the baby section at the very back of the store, the two of them immediately setting their sights on a crib. Before he even saw it Rick knew what one he wanted, what Lori would have chosen. He found it immediately, glad to find there was a display model already built.

"This one," he decided, running his hand over the curved sides. Scrutinising it's features, he raised the front up and down, checking the poster to ensure it was what they needed. Next he turned his attention to the bedding, approving of the colour and design on the soft pink sheets. There was already a teddy bear and mobile…it was all ready for her. "Mom would like this one."

"How do you know?" Carl frowned, his attention focused on another crib entirely different.

Rick scoffed, folding his arms. "We were only married for fifteen years."

"But I like this one," he insisted, gesturing to one made of dark wood and hard, angular lines.

"Why?"

"I just do."

"This one's nicer," Rick insisted, running his hand over the curved sides of the sleigh style crib. He knew it would have appealed to Lori, the soft curves and white paint suiting her taste. "Besides, this one turns into a bed for when she gets older."

"But it's white…" Carl sighed, coming back over. He looked at the display poster again, pulling a face. "I guess it's kind of okay."

"Done." Tossing the display poster away, he dragged the crib into the aisle, pleasantly surprised to find that the display model had hidden wheels underneath. "We'll need to find some more sheets and blankets too."

They went about methodically choosing the items they required, not too worried about making the perfect choice. Yet with every toy and item of clothing that he tossed into the shopping cart, Rick told himself he wasn't trying to compensate for Lori's absence, that he wasn't trying to make it up to his daughter. But a part of him felt guilty for the fact that she would never know her mother, though rationally he knew there was nothing that could have saved Lori. Even if Herschel had been there, survival after an amateur caesarian section would have been bleak, no matter how much care they took. Rick knew that Lori's absence wasn't his fault, but still…if he could give Judith these things, then why shouldn't he?

"Awe," Rosita sighed, her face softening from it's previous scowl as she walked past them. She and Carrie stopped and looked into the crib, smiling at the array of clothing and toys they had thrown in there. Picking up a pair of little white shoes, she sighed. "I think my ovaries might explode."

"Hey, we could use your opinion over here," Carl appealed to them. "We can't decide on a rug."

Rosita immediately raised her hands in objection. "No way. I'm not getting into an argument with you two. This will be Monopoly all over again."

"Monopoly?" Carrie asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Don't ask."

"Come on Carrie," Carl pleaded, using on of his crutches to wave her over. "Side with me, alright?"

"Yes, Carrie," Rick smiled at her, tilting his head. "Come on over and pick a side."

Carrie looked at him with narrowed eyes, but the smile in the corner of her mouth betrayed her interest. She looked him up and down, no doubt thinking about what they had been doing only an hour or so ago. To her credit though, her expression displayed nothing more than polite interest, particularly to Carl. She came over to them, one hand on her hip as she looked at the two rugs on the floor. He and Carl had spent the last ten minutes arguing over which one they preferred, and neither were willing to budge.

"Who want's which one?"

"Dad wants the pink and grey zig-zag, and I want the white shag pile."

"Huh," she pondered, catching Rick's eye. She crouched down and ran her hands over each one, commenting. "The pink and grey is very soft…I just wouldn't have thought it was your colour, Rick."

He tried not to roll his eyes. "It's for Judith."

"Oh," she pretended to realise, running her hand over the white shag now. "Hmmm, this one's soft too."

"I don't want pink in my room," Carl argued, putting his hands on his hips.

"Your poor little sister," Rick teased.

"She doesn't care!"

"The poor little thing…"

Carl glared at him, giving a long sigh. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

He just shrugged, making a point of not looking at Carrie. "Don't know…must be Walmart."

Carl sighed again, pulling a face as he looked down at the rug. "But it's pink."

"You won't even notice it." Seeing that he had won, Rick crouched down and starting to roll the rug up. Hoisting it over his shoulder, he smiled at Carrie. "Thanks for your help."

Carrie laughed, looking between the two of them as she too stood up. "I didn't do a thing."

"Well, you did something for me," he corrected her, keeping his face straight.

Unable to help herself, she gave a short laugh before quickly turning away, she and Rosita making a quick departure to elsewhere in the store. Rick watched her go, his mouth twisted as he tried not to smile too much. He tossed the rug into the large aisle and then continued on though the baby section, choosing some toys and a sticky mat for the bath tub, and then a couple of pink and purple towels.

"This one talks," Carl said, showing him the potty he had found. "How cool is that?"

Trying not to roll his eyes, Rick wondered who was spoiling Judith more, he or Carl. "She doesn't need a talking potty. Just get a normal one."

"But Da-ad," he moaned.

"Did you just call me Butt Dad?"

Confused for a moment, Carl shook his head. "Seriously? Dad jokes?"

Rick shrugged, showing Carl two plush toys. "Elephant, or Turtle?"

"Both."

Tossing them both into the crib that served as a cart, they carried on, Rick forcing himself to not take everything. Looking at the array of hair barrettes and clips, he knew he was going to have a lot to learn over the next few years…Beth had trimmed Judith's fringe a week before they lost the prison, but since then he hadn't let anyone touch her beautiful locks, wanting to let them grow. He knew Lori would have wanted her hair to grow long just like hers…but he'd have to make a point of learning how to do it. Collecting a few rolls of ribbon as well, he felt a sting of intimidation, and knew he was going to have to ask Carol for help in this department. Although she never talked about Sophia, just like Rick never talked about Shane, he knew she would be delighted to teach him such things.

"Hey Dad, it's you!"

Looking around, Rick narrowed his eyes when he saw the stuffed pig Carl was brandishing. "You're very funny," he smiled, snatching the pig from his hands. "What is this?"

"That's George," Carl informed him, taking another pig off the shelf and putting it into the crib. "And that's Peppa. Haven't you heard of Peppa Pig? I bet they have the DVDs."

"Carl," Rick said in exasperation, his son almost ready to bolt to the Home Entertainment section. "One thing at a time."

"But can we-"

"Yes," he promised. "DVDs are on the list. Besides, we need to improve your Tom Hanks knowledge."

"I know who Tom Hanks is…Show me the money!" he laughed, looking at Rick expectantly.

Rick sighed, collecting a set of toy cars. If they had to play with Judith, the least they could do was play with some cars every now and then. "I never thought I'd say this, but you need to watch more TV."

"That wasn't Tom Hanks?"

"Tom Cruise."

"Oh," he said in embarrassment. "What about one of these?" he asked excitedly, coming past the colourful walkers and play gyms. "Dad, she could learn to walk."

Just like with the talking potty, Rick showed restraint. "She'll learn to walk on her own," he assured him. "As soon as she gets sick of crawling, she'll start."

"But, this could help her."

Rick shook his head, looking past the enormous boxes and finding a smaller, more suitable package. "One of these will be better," he said, putting the fold up cart into the crib. "She can push this around, put all her things in it."

"That's so boring…"

"You had one like this. You loved it."

"Yeah, but….I want to get her everything," he finally admitted, squinting at Rick in the dim light. "Don't you?"

"She's got a crib full. And besides," he continued, the rational words falling from his lips even though he didn't quite believe them yet. "She doesn't need stuff."

There was a short pause, Carl considering this. "Yeah, but…please can we get the talking potty?"

"No," he insisted, the two of them heading towards the large aisle again. "It runs on batteries…are you going to be the one to tell Olivia that you need batteries for a talking potty?"

"No," he admitted.

"Besides…the fewer toys that make noise, the better. Trust me on that. Now come on," he prompted Carl, giving him the crib full of supplies. He picked up the large rug instead, slinging it over his shoulder. "You're going to give that to Abraham, and then protect me from him."

"You'd use me as a human shield?" Carl asked, pushing the crib as he followed Rick out.

"Only against Abraham, I promise."

Heading towards the exit, they passed Carrie and Rosita who carried loot of their own. Rosita's was easy enough to identify, a shopping basket full of shoes and clothing, but Carrie's required a second glance. A large sports bag was over her shoulder the same way Rick carried Judith's rug, the tag identifying it's contents.

"Hockey set?"

She nodded, a mixture of excitement and apprehension playing on her face. "Rosita says there's plenty of space to play…sounds too good to be true though."

"You feel like someone's going to pull the rug from under your feet?"

"Ah huh."

"Well don't…It's there."

Smiling at him, Carrie looked him up and down before glancing at Carl. He was walking ahead of them, talking animatedly with Rosita.

"Carl's in a good mood today," she commented.

"That's because I'm in a good mood." He looked her in the eye as he said this, making sure she knew why.

"Well it's nice seeing you smiling for a change."

"Thanks for putting it there."

Her mouth twisted into a grin she was trying to hide, attempting to keep her face blank. "You're welcome…how many we got left?"

"Five," he said, patting the front pocket of his jeans. He didn't need to ask what she was referring to.

"Maybe tonight we could take watch together."

The idea had significant appeal, and Rick ran through the things he would have to ensure before they could indeed take watch together. Somewhere safe for the group to stay tonight…easily protected with a private space to take watch.

"I'll see what I can do," he promised, excited by the prospect. Reaching the exit, he glanced through the doors at Abraham who still looked particularly stressed. "Until then, I'm going to hide behind Carl for protection."

Carrie laughed at this, her eyes crinkling with mirth. Reminding himself to keep the stupid grin off his face, Rick braced himself and headed after Carl, pleased by how well that day was going.

* * *

A/N Thanks for hanging in there guys, I hope you enjoyed the chapter with them finally hitting up Walmart. And don't worry, there is drama coming soon, there are no smooth seas on the way home to Alexandria. Also, I've just started my draft for the sequel to this story, tentatively named The New Resident. Major thanks for my beta Angelcat70/AngieB for her enormous help with the story line! (please applaud her).


	36. Chapter 36

Their work at Walmart was finally drawing to a close, the military truck and removal van crammed full. It was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon, and thus far the day was going exceptionally well, even by their low standards. Once they had cleared out all the essentials and begun packing them up, Abraham allowed them back inside in small groups, their new task being to retrieve items they desired solely for themselves. The notion had baffled Carrie, and she had no idea where to even start…she could have whatever she liked? Material possessions free for her to take…it wasn't the fact that they were looting as opposed to scavenging for survival that bothered her, but the idea that she could have something she wanted. If only she knew what that was.

Thankfully Rosita had come with her, as though she had sensed Carrie's uncertainty. They had slowly walked the store together, their eyes casting over an array of items they neither needed nor desired. Finally they made their way past the clothing and shoes section, Rosita immediately setting her sights on a pair of black stilettos. Though Carrie doubted she would ever have reason to wear them, Rosita reverently put them into her shopping cart, admiring them as they continued on. A little while later Carrie's interest was sparked by a pair of brightly coloured running shoes, the bright yellow and purple colour grabbing her attention.

"How big exactly is Alexandria?" she asked Rosita, looking at the running shoes.

Rosita shrugged. "A couple of streets."

"Big enough to jog around?"

"You don't exactly need exercise," Rosita told her sternly, looking her up and down.

Carrie agreed wholeheartedly, not liking the too slim shape of her body. "I know, but it's relaxing when you're not being chased by something."

Laughing at this, Rosita gave her answer. "Yeah, it's big enough to jog around. One of the residents takes her dog for a walk…sometimes I see them running together. I think it's Betsy…"

"Alright then," Carrie smiled, putting the running shoes into the shopping cart.

Thinking longingly of the days when she jogged through Manhattan and the yoga class in Central Park, Carrie had found herself some running clothes and a few sets of socks, departing from the usual thick socks required for wearing under boots. She and Rosita continued on together, Rosita heading to the sports section and grabbing some new yoga mats. They continued through the store, and Carrie paused as they passed by a rack of cheap jewellery. Choosing a pair of plain gold studs, she put them in her ears as she remembered the diamond earrings she used to wear, and the box of water crackers she had traded them for. By the time they had departed with their cart full of goods, Carrie had felt like she was on a high. Not only had she and Rick indulged in a quickie that afternoon, she had things for herself…even a hockey set. But still, it was difficult to comprehend the idea that she would ever use them. Like most things, it was too good to be true.

Tending to the plants in the greenhouses, Carrie balanced on the rear wheel of the military truck, trying to make the watering can reach the plants in the very back. She couldn't quite reach, but she didn't dare ask Abraham to help her move some supplies aside, knowing how tightly wound he was that afternoon. The plants and seedlings were doing alright after their removal from the prison gardens, if not a little wilted and sad looking, but they would survive well enough for another few days. She wondered if she would be asked to help with the gardens they had in Alexandria, praying she hadn't over stated her talents as a gardener. Though she fancied herself to be a green thumb, the only herb garden she ever owned was a few pots on the fire escape of her apartment…they had died with alarming frequency. Rick appeared to trust her talents though, having requested her help with the gardens at the prison. She just prayed she hadn't cursed these poor plants.

"Oh come on Grimes!" Abraham shouted in exasperation, making everyone look around. Rick was bringing out another shopping cart filled with supplies. "What am I supposed to do with all of this shit?"

Without skipping a beat, Rick put his hand on Carl's shoulder and stood behind him, using him as a human shield for a third time that day. "These are the last ones, I promise," he said. "It's important stuff…things we need."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know DVD's were essential to survival," Abraham scolded him, picking up a plastic case and glaring at it. "Oh, Sons of Anarchy…"

"They weigh nothing."

"But-"

"Oi'," Daryl cut in loudly, holding a box up in the air. "We got a fuckin' pasta maker. So everybody stop panicking…it's gonna be alright."

There was a chorus of laughter, Carrie smiling and shaking her head at them. The problem of the pasta maker had first been brought up at The BigSpot, Abraham citing it as their number one priority above all else. This announcement seemed to appease Abraham, who just shook his head in defeat and told them to hurry up. The trucks and vehicles were jammed full of supplies, with many of the lighter items secured on the roofs of the minivan and Hyundai.

As though not trusting Rick's promise that it was the last items they were scavenging, Abraham did a quick head count of their group and then headed over to the entrance. Pulling the heavy black gates across the entrance, he secured them with a long chain and padlock, keeping the store free of more Walkers. Hopefully it would be clear to anyone else passing through that the store was a safe haven now, that there were still some supplies and a safe place to hold up for the night.

Jumping down from the military truck, Carrie set to work helping them pack up the last of the supplies, cramming more items into the crib Rick and Carl had found for Judith. It was in the back of the delivery van Tobin had fixed up, and they were currently cramming it full of items, filling every nook and cranny of space. She wondered what they would be doing for the rest of the day, having overheard discussion about checking out a few places.

"Rick's in a good mood today," Aidan commented, coming to stand by Carrie. He watched as Rick started unloaded the final shopping carts, laughing at something Tobin said to him. "That's rarer than a friendly Walker."

Carrie just smiled, knowing Aidan was right. "It's Walmart," she shrugged. "What's there not to smile about?"

"True," Aidan nodded in agreement.

There was an awkward pause, and Carrie anticipated the next question before Aidan even began.

"We're heading out again, once we're packed up here. Got some places to look through."

"Ah huh."

"Team up with me?"

"Sure," she nodded politely, not having an acceptable excuse to refuse him. "So long as you think you can handle me."

Leaving their conversation at that, Carrie headed off and hoped she didn't look like she was trying to escape. Michonne's comments the other day still lingered, Carrie knowing that Aidan must be nursing a crush on her. Though he seemed like a nice enough guy, Carrie couldn't ever picture herself indulging his crush. Their experiences were far too different. He had been sheltered from the very worst of what the world had become, unlike her. Besides, his cocky and self-confident demeanour reminded her of Logan, her ex-husband who had cheated on her twice. If there was ever a turn off for her, it was similarities to him.

She occupied herself for a few minutes, helping Tobin distribute some of the newly found food among the trunks of each car. There wasn't much space left anywhere now, not with each car crammed full with supplies. Though she hadn't been there during the planning stages of this supply run, she increasingly got the feeling that they hadn't expected to be bringing back the amount that they were. If they hadn't found the military truck in fairly good condition, she figured they probably would have needed to leave a great deal of it behind, which went against the whole point of the supply run. Even with two trucks, they were abandoning the red sedan in favour of a shiny white delivery van where Judith's crib was being stored.

Abraham perched himself on the back of the military truck, rounding the group up and calling them to attention. "The day's not over, folks. Team up, groups of four. Carl, you're with me, your dad and Rosita."

"Team up with me," Carrie urgently whispered to Michonne, moving to stand next to her. "Please."

Michonne didn't say anything, detecting the urgency of Carrie's request. Giving a short nod, she folded her arms and looked around, slowly coming to understand when she saw Aidan and Nicholas approaching them.

"Just let him down easy," Michonne whispered, giving a polite nod as the two men came over.

"I will," she weakly promised, wishing she knew how.

"We've got heaps of medication from the bunker and here," Nicholas argued in exasperation. "Why are we looking for more?"

"I don't give two short and curlies what we have already," Abraham told him, opening up the map and spreading it out on the hood of the minivan. "Too much medication on hand is not enough. Rick and I are going to take the dental surgeries on this moan road along here, and then we'll double back to hit this vet surgery and the Planned Parenthood centre."

"Daryl, Tobin and I can take this area here," Aaron commented, indicating to the other side of town. "There's a pathology unit there. I've got the list Pete gave us, I'll see if we can scavenge any of the equipment. We can try the nursing home after that."

"Take Glenn with you," Abraham instructed, seeing he and Rick returning from their check of the carpark. "Carrie, Michonne? You take your group to this suburb here, Eastridge. There's a retirement village near the golf course…rich old folk have got meds."

"Sounds fine to us," Michonne nodded.

Developing good habits, Carrie checked her weapons again and found that she needed another magazine. Heading for the back of the minivan, whose arsenal of spares was easiest to access, she loaded herself up. Glancing over at Rick, she wasn't surprised to find his carefree attitude from earlier fading away while seriousness took its place. The group were separating, something they didn't often do, but time made it necessary. She watched as his eyes flicked around, critiquing the groups to give approval. As Carrie rejoined Michonne, Aidan and Nicholas, she saw surprise cross his face, his mouth twisting into a grimace. They made small talk as they waited, but from the corner of her eye Carrie was watching Rick, wondering if he would separate Aidan from her. Being a grown man hadn't stopped him feeling a twinge of jealousy towards Aidan's affections for her, and she'd noticed.

Carrie wasn't oblivious to the other reality though…she knew there was division between the Grimes' group and the Alexandrians, and that Rick's confidence in certain people was particularly lacking. While he had trusted Aidan to care for an injured Carl while the others took the prison, she had noted that his confidence in him was overall quite poor, and in Nicholas and Tobin too. It was like Rick and the others took particular care to watch over them, to supervise them and make sure they didn't stuff up. Feeling sympathetic, she suspected that's how they looked at her too. Aside from her introduction while wearing Walker guts for clothing, her poor marksmanship and gun skills must have made her seem like a liability.

"I want everyone back here before sun down," Rick addressed them. "We'll stay the night in the store there on the corner, the real estate office. We'll have good lines of sight to keep watch. If something goes wrong, reconvene here. If you get lost or separated, come here if you can. Otherwise find somewhere safe to hold up until we can come and get you."

"On that note," Abraham added, handing out maps they got from the information centre. "Do not break into less than pairs, and if you do, then make sure you have a radio and a map."

"Stay alert too. The group Carrie and I ran into the other day…there could be more of them passing through here."

A slight murmur swept through the group, although this wasn't exactly news to them. Shivering not from the cold wind, Carrie took a slow breath as she thought about Granger and the three others who she and Rick had killed. In the aftermath of all that, she had intentionally pushed almost every thought of them out of her head, dwelling on the incident only to remind herself about the danger from the others. The map marked with various routes indicated that there might be more of these groups out there, potentially as dangerous as Granger.

"None of those routes come into Franklin," Tobin began.

"One of them passes a little south of us," Rick corrected. "It would be naive to think they're not branching out, that they haven't gone off course for some other reason. We're splitting up into smaller groups today, making ourselves weaker, vulnerable. Act as if we could have someone on our asses at any second. Is that clear?"

There was a murmur of agreement, and with that everyone began breaking apart into their groups and heading for their cars, leaving the trucks behind for now. Following Michonne, Carrie swung herself into the back seat of the minivan as she began looking over the map Abraham had given them, passing it to Michonne for her to see. As Nicholas started the engine and Aidan gave directions to the retirement village, Carrie looked out the window at everyone else, mentally taking note of who was going with who, just like Rick did.

Speaking of him, she saw him holding Carl's crutches and helping him climb into the back of the delivery van, manoeuvring himself around the supplies while Abraham and Rosita got in the front. As if he felt her eyes boring into him, he looked around at her just as Nicholas started pulling away. Watching them go, he raised his hand in a polite wave, and she braced herself for his inevitable smile, disappointed when all she got was his usual scowl. She knew that he was worried about the groups separating.

Although he mistrusted Aidan and Nicholas, and that he worried about her skills with a gun, Carrie wasn't concerned. While she of course shared a certain amount of worry, she was confident of her group, particularly given that Michonne was a part of it. This would be a good opportunity for her too, particularly if she was given the job of supply runner when she got to Alexandria. Glenn was normally the one who teamed up with Aidan and Nicholas, the three of them still making an effort to get to know one another, so it wasn't so much of a stretch that Carrie do the same.

Hampered by their unfamiliarity of the town, they slowly made their way to the very outskirts town, finding that the grand gates and fences of the retirement village made it look more like a resort. Spacious bungalows flanked the winding roads, the community nestled amongst dense trees that would have afforded the residents privacy and a rather nice outlook. Despite its abandonment, Carrie could imagine what it must have been like prior to the outbreak, suspecting it would have been rather expensive.

But as nice at it looked, it was also equally frustrating. The roads appeared to be unmarked, and there were no maps or indications of where they were located or how they would get out again. They wasted twenty minutes simply driving around trying to find their way, driving past the same golf green three times without realising it. Eventually they came across the golf club and recreation centre, and it was with a relief that they saw a large centre map signposted by the car park. The four of them piled out of the minivan and headed over to it, taking down a couple of Walkers that came their way. Though she was largely desensitised to the Walkers she had to kill, having long ago stopped seeing them as people, Carrie felt the same type of sadness that came with finding children who had turned. The Walker she had taken down that day had once been elderly person, possibly rather frail given the slow way it moved about. Even after all this time, some of the kills she made still bothered her.

"Thank God," Aidan sighed, the group converging on the village map. "We'd be driving around all day just to find our way out."

Agreeing with him, Carrie scrutinised the large map, assessing where they were in relation to the various areas. Aside from the golf club and recreation centre, there were a variety of different zones including an infirmary and mini market. Making her best judgement, she started pointing out the different zones.

"The bungalows in the red zone near the infirmary, they were probably the older residents, the ones who needed it close. I'd say they'd have the best meds, if that's what we're after."

"That's not far," Michonne commented, looking up the road. "We should start there."

"Let's split up," Nicholas suggested, he too peering up the road. "Two of us can take the medical centre, the other two should go here."

"The reception centre and offices?" Michonne questioned, looking to where he pointed. "Why?"

"They'll have portable defibrillators in every major building," he explained. "They're on Pete's list, and we've only found one in the underground bunker."

Seeing Aidan turning towards her, a hopeful look on his face, Carrie spoke without thought. "You're right," she told Nicholas. "You and I should take the reception. Michonne, Aidan? You could take the infirmary if you want."

Just as she expected to, a flash of disappointment crossed Aidan's face. Either he was oblivious to what was going on with she and Rick, or he was choosing to ignore it. He nodded his head in agreement, but Michonne took a little longer to think on this, not liking the idea that they split up.

"We should stay together."

"We've got a lot of ground to cover," Nicholas shrugged. "We've already wasted over half an hour just getting to this point."

There was the unspoken agreement that as the only member of Rick's group, their final decision came down to Michonne, and Carrie wasn't oblivious to how much Aidan and Nicholas disliked this. With her arms folded and a blank look on her face, Michonne gave careful consideration to the suggested before glancing at her watch. With obvious reluctance, she nodded.

"You and Carrie take the car," she said to Nicholas. "The infirmary isn't far, Aidan and I can walk." She turned back to the village map now, pointing out the different areas. "We'll cover the infirmary and the bungalows on the red zone. If we have time, we'll branch out into the yellow here. Carrie, you and Nicholas stay in the blue. You're going to be far from us, so I don't want you straying on foot too far. Meet here again in one hour."

With that agreed, the four of them checked that they had everything they needed before splitting up, Carrie ensuring she had a radio clipped to her belt. Ignoring the look Michonne gave her, one that teased about how cowardly she was for still avoiding Aidan, she joined Nicholas in the minivan and together they set off for the reception centre. With only vague idea of where they were going, Carrie didn't bother trying to help navigate, having already forgotten what the map looked like. It suddenly occurred to her that she and Nicholas had never actually been alone together..hell, they'd barely held a conversation. Despite this, they sat in comfortable silence. Carrie knew she was going to have to make an effort to get to know Aidan and Nicholas a little better before they started supply runs together…and on that note, she'd had to let Aidan down before then too.

In minutes they arrived at the reception centre, and modern building standing out amongst the dense trees and gardens. For a moment the steep vaulted roof reminded her of a church, and she noted that the entire end of the building was framed glass. Pointing this out to Nicholas, they parked the minivan in the middle of the road and cautiously made their way over, using the enormous windows to their advantage. This moment afforded Carrie her first opportunity to gauge what Nicholas was like to work with, for while he walked straight through the gardens to look into the building, Carrie hung back, a little more cautious. Using her machete she rustled a few of the bushes before she passed them, not wanting to be taken by surprise by anything that might be hiding in there. As if to reiterate the importance of her task, she took note of a corpse that lay a few feet to Nicholas' right. The smashed in skull indicated that it wasn't animated, but she could tell he hadn't even noticed it.

Wanting to get on with it, Carrie rapped her fist against the glass and then waited, checking out their surroundings as she did so. A breeze rustled the trees, and the sound of a bird chirping set her at ease…it was rather peaceful here, particularly with the abundance of gardens. As she waited for signs of life from inside the building, rapping her fist against the window again, she listened to the bird that was still chirping.

"Let's clear the inside," she suggested, confident that it was safe to start.

Moving out of the gardens, Carrie and Nicholas stuck to the paths now and made their way over to the heavy glass doors at the front. Opening them, and taking note that a long time ago they had been smeared with blood, they headed inside with their weapons ready. Sticking close by him, they set about clearing the building, not letting the guard down until they were certain it was safe. To the left of them was a typical reception, to their right was a spacious and comfortable seating area and coffee cart. Straight ahead was a single corridor, but a quick inspection told her that all the doors were closed.

"All clear," Nicholas declared in satisfaction, looking around the large atrium.

"Looks like it," she agreed, holstering her gun.

She kept her hand on her knife as she looked around, admiring the high vaulted ceiling and expansive windows that looked out onto the gardens. Taking a few moments, she looked outside to be aware of their surroundings, seeing movement from the trees. When she saw a Walker emerging from behind one of the other buildings, she stepped away from the windows and returned to Nicholas, knowing they had a lot of ground to cover before meeting back up with Michonne and Aidan.

"Anything?"

"Yeah," he nodded, showing her the medical kit he had found in the office behind the reception desk. Opening it up, he began stuffing the contents into his pack, giving a nod of satisfaction when he found what they had hoped to come across at the Retirement Village. "Portable Defibrillator. We win."

"That's great," she smiled, doing an excellent job at not sounding sarcastic.

As she intended, Nicholas did not pick up on her sarcasm, and he happily went about clearing the medical kit, giving a nod of satisfaction when he also found an Epi-Pen, an unusual find for a standard medical kit. He had been right…splitting up to go to the reception centre had been a good idea.

"We should check those offices," Nicholas commented, zipping up the pack and dumping it by the door they came through. He looked to the far side of the building, to the single corridor that likely led to some offices and restrooms.

"Yes," she agreed, but for purely selfish reasons. Her lips were dry and chapped at the moment, and wanting to conserve the bottle of water in Nicholas' pack, she hoped instead to find a chapstick somewhere. New or used, she didn't care so long as she could get her hands on it. If she and Rick were going to try and sneak away again that night, she didn't want to kiss him with chapped lips.

Dwelling on that, Carrie was keen to get their day over with as soon as possible, and when each individual team had finished sweeping their designated area, they'd all return to the real estate office near Walmart. They would set up for the night, gorge themselves on the food they'd found and then go to bed early. Well the others would at least…she and Rick on the other hand would take the first opportunity to sneak away, perhaps to one of the offices, or maybe one of the cars in the empty parking lot. At least there they wouldn't have to be quiet.

Eagerly anticipating this, she headed for the hallway, keeping her footsteps light as Nicholas began following her. The bad smell that indicated Walkers was worse down this way, but its offensiveness was slightly offset by what she could see at the end of the corridor. A floor to ceiling window showed off the garden outside, and a lone bird sat preening its feathers on the edge of a murky brown pond. Smiling at it, she watched for a few moments before getting to work. Simply knocking on each of the doors, she stood and waited to hear anything inside, quickly locating the source of the stench.

They were already riled up from the sound of them hanging around, but when Carrie knocked on the second door in the corridor, the Walkers inside made their presence highly known. The door rattled loudly as they threw themselves up against it, rhythmic thuds indicating the way they pounded and clawed their hands at it. Carrie looked down at the door handle, glad to see that it was a twist knob, not a lever. The Walkers wouldn't be able to open it, even if it was unlocked, although she wasn't interested to find out if it was or not.

"Walkers in here," she said, looking over her shoulder for Nicholas. She felt a pang of annoyance to find he wasn't paying attention, that he was reading one of the pamphlets. "Nicholas. There're Walkers in here."

"Yeah, alright. Just leave them," he said, looking up at her. "They can't get out."

Though she wanted to tell him she had determined that for herself, she held her tongue. Feeling rather more sympathetic to what Glenn had to put up with, Carrie continued on down the hallway, knocking on the other doors. Down the very end were two sets of restrooms, and though she didn't open them to look inside, a quick knock assured her they too were free of Walkers. Glancing out the window, she took pause to admire the bird on the pond, but it was gone now. She glanced back at Nicholas, still annoyed to see that he wasn't paying attention, that he was now taking sachets of sugar and coffee from coffee cart.

"Nicholas," she called out as quietly as she could, not wanting to rile up the other Walkers any more than she had already. When he looked up at her, she gestured to the door at the end of the hall, requesting his help.

"Wait, I'll back you up," he nodded, taking out his gun as he came to her.

"That's what I was getting at," she muttered under her breath, though her expression was friendly.

"Why this one?" he asked, waiting as she got herself ready. He glanced back down the hallway towards the door holding back the Walkers, glad to hear that they were settling down for some reason.

"Nancy Phillips - Managing Director," she read off the name plate. "She might have left her hand bag behind."

Drawing her Ruger, she adjusted her grip, but on instinct she glanced down to where her knife was holstered on her hip. She still preferred to use that, but while she had Nicholas here backing her up, she had to try using her gun again. She'd done well that morning, particularly with Glenn by her side giving encouragement. Letting Nicholas take the lead, they opened the door and took a step back, both of them breathing a sigh of relief when nothing came jumping out at them.

Leaving behind the corridor, they swept inside and cleared it properly, both of them pleased to find it was empty. "Thank you," she said to Nicholas.

He just nodded, scratching the side of his nose and looked around the office. Holstering her gun, Carrie went around behind the desk and sank into the plush office chair, groaning in delight at how comfortable it was. Taking a moment to herself, she kicked off and let the chair slowly spin her around. The office was rather nice, and just like the rest of the building, large windows showcased the beautiful gardens outside. Looking back to the fountain she had been admiring before, she smiled to see that the bird was back again.

"You've got a son, right?" Carrie asked, noticing Nicholas looking at the pictures on the desk.

"Mikey," he nodded.

"I've heard Carl talking about him…he seems to like him."

Nicholas just shrugged. "To be honest, I don't really like them hanging out. But Mikey hasn't exactly much choice in friends."

Carrie hesitated, looking around the room. "Why's that?" she dared to ask, wondering what he had against Carl.

"You know what Carl's like. He's a little too much like his father."

Once again, Carrie bit her tongue, not saying the first thing that came into her head. She didn't like Nicholas' comments, but he was entitled to his opinion. No doubt Rick had plenty of his own. Before she could say or do anything, Nicholas turned on his heel and left the office, his sudden departure making Carrie frown. For the love of God…aren't we meant to be working together?

Suspecting he was probably heading back to the reception desk, Carrie grit her teeth and got back to work. As she opened the bottom drawer of the desk and found a light blue hand bag, she reminded herself that she couldn't make an enemy of Nicholas, not if she was likely to become one of the supply runners. She had to learn to work with him, just as she had learnt how to work with Glenn. Despite their mishap when they cleared the BigSpot, she and Glenn had both made an effort to work past the fact that they didn't know each other very well…barely a week later they worked together seamlessly. All it would take was a little effort with Nicholas, and she was sure the same thing would happen.

Still dwelling on his comment about Carl, she rolled her eyes to herself when she realised that Aidan and Nicholas must have no idea she and Rick have slept together, that it was turning into an ongoing tryst. If they did, she suspected Nicholas wouldn't have made the comment he did, at least not to her face anyway. Thank God she was never really interested in Aidan in the first place, particularly if he was so self absorbed he couldn't pick up on the fact that his affections for her were not being returned.

Taking the handbag, she sat it on her lap and opened it. Just as she had hoped, the bag had been left behind at the last minute, and so she rifled through it. Looking past receipts and an empty Tylenol blister pack, she opened the interior zipper and found two items, each of their own unique value. She set the pack of tampons on the desk to take back to the others, but the used chapstick was hers now. Opening the lid and winding the base, she smiled as she applied it to her lips, smacking them together and revelling in how much better they felt. For just a moment, she put her head back and enjoyed the moment.

Opening the rest of the drawers, Carrie frowned as she heard a heavy thud from outside the corridor, the sound making her skin prickle. She paused, time slowing down for a moment as she heard Nicholas shout in surprise, familiar growls echoing the sound. Scrambling to her feet, she clumsily stumbled around the open drawers in her haste, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach as she saw shadows filling the corridor outside.

"Nicholas!" she shouted, realising he had opened the second door, that he was under attack.

Before she could get far, a Walker came ambling into the office, giving a loud snarl as it set its eyes on her. Picturing Nicholas under attack, Carrie dove straight for the Walker and wrenched it aside, clearing the way for her to get out. Bursting into the corridor, she cried out in horror upon finding that it was filling with Walkers, that the narrow space meant they clumsily bumped up against one another and completely cut her off from Nicholas. The only reassurance she had was that he wasn't screaming, that he must be alright. But as the Walkers turned around at the sound of her voice and looked at her, she was unsurprisingly a little less concerned about Nicholas. Looking over her shoulder, she was horrified to see that she was trapped in the corridor…that she had no where to go.

"Carrie, run!" Nicholas yelled out uselessly, not realising she couldn't.

She couldn't see him, she had no idea what he was doing, but the sound of his voice reassured her that he was okay. Trying not to panic, Carrie automatically backed herself up to create space between herself and that which sought to harm her. Her hands trembling, she fumbled with her holster as she withdrew her gun and raised it to the nearest Walker. Confident that it was a good shot, she pulled the trigger and prepared herself for the recoil.

When nothing happened, her heart skipped a beat. The Walkers were shuffling towards her now, joined by the one she had shoved aside in the office. She pulled the trigger again and then yelled in frustration, realising there wasn't a round in the chamber. Furious with herself, for her own mistrust of her weapon was now endangering her more than it ever had, she tried to reach for the slide, but her brief lapse was all the Walkers needed. Having let it get too close, one of them lunged for her as its eyes widened in anticipation.

"Nicholas!" she shouted, dodging the Walker. Bumping into the wall, she fumbled with her gun as she nearly dropped it, and she was forced to shove the next Walker away. "Nicho-"

Her shove was poorly executed, and the Walker in question came crashing down on her, pushing her down to the ground before she could stop it. Her body took over, disregarding her panic and acting without thought. She fought against the heavy mass, keeping the hands and face far away from her as she scrambled backwards on the floor, kicking it away. A second came down at her, but she rolled and dodged it by inches, the heavy mass falling to the ground beside her. A third was there before she could even catch her breath, and it fell down to its knees as it hungrily reached for her, its jaws snapping and snarling. At the last minute, she caught sight of a name badge on the lapel of its suit…Nancy Phillips.

Letting them claw and grab at her legs, for they at least were protected by her jeans, Carrie kicked at them as she used her elbows to scramble backwards. Finding momentary reprieve as the Walkers scrambled over one another, she crawled backwards to get away from them, crying out when she realised she had lost hold of her gun. She tried to look for it, but there simply wasn't time, and the sight of more Walkers in the corridor kept her moving. Pushing herself to her feet she knew she had to find safety, that trying to take on that many in such a confined space was not going to work. As one pursued her, Carrie burst through the closest door, praying that her earlier presumption that it was clear was true.

She practically collapsed into the restroom, the darkness of it momentarily paralysing her. The only light was that which shone through the open door, but there was no turning back. She tried to slam the door closed, but its heavy weight and slow closing hinge worked against her, and the Walker in pursuit easily slipped in. It was on her in seconds, snarling wildly as it clumsily batted it's hands at her, clawing at her thigh when she used her foot to keep it at bay. As the door closed, her weight against it preventing the others from entering, so she kicked out and knocked the Walker over.

Panic told her to shrink to the ground and curl up, to use the darkness to protect herself, but she knew that's not how it worked. Though it certainly helped, the Walker didn't need light to find her, particularly given the volume at which she was breathing. Unable to help it, she screamed as she sensed the Walker coming back towards her, her terror compounded by those that threw themselves against the door, making it rattle. Blindly kicking through the darkness, she felt her boot connect with something heavy, and she listened as the Walker snarled and protested as it fell to the ground again.

It took all of her weight to keep the door closed, and her boots slid on the tiled floor, making it a constant struggle to brace herself against it. The Walker inside came at her for a third time, but when she used her foot to keep it away, her other foot slid on the floor, allowing the door opening a few inches. Filled with immense dread for what was happening, she felt herself struggling to breathe, another panicked scream breaching her throat as she felt the Walker clawing at the hem of her shirt, struggling to reach her as she held it back. Doing all she could to keep it at bay, she waited for Nicholas to help her, for him to take out his gun and start firing.

No such indication came, and in the midst of her terror she felt her body taking over, her hand moving without her telling it to. Reaching down, she pulled her knife out of its holster and gripped it as tightly as she could, thinking through what she was about to do. There was no light at all in the restroom, making any action she took completely blind, but she had no choice. Raising her hand high up in the air, she took advantage of the fact that she could feel it's hands on her hip, confident that it wouldn't scratch her.

Praying she didn't stab herself, she swung the knife down and plunged it into the Walker, quickly pulling it back again when she realised she missed the head. One more swing was all it took, and this time she felt the resistance of the rotting skull beneath her knife. But her efforts were possibly too late. The effort of keeping the Walker at bay and then taking it down meant the restroom door managed to open again, light streaming as while multiple hands and a face managed to slip through the gap. She could hear someone screaming as she started stabbing wildly, hacking at any moving body part that reached in for her, that sought to harm her. As blood and gore spattered over her hand and arm, she slowly realised that the person screaming was her. She kept going, targeting the final tendrils of flesh that were wedged in the doorway until they fell to the ground.

Finally the door closed again, and as her screaming diminished into breathless sobs, she braced herself against it once more. No longer needing to protect herself from the Walker inside, she put her full weight against the door and held it there as she waited. The growls and scratching on the other side did not stop, the door still managing to open a fraction every now and then as she momentarily weakened, but she didn't stop trying. Any minute now Nicholas would be there…any minute now the Walkers on the other side of this door would fall silent, and they'd both be okay.

Her feet were still slipping on the tiles, forcing her to constantly move them back on forth to find grip. Lowering herself down the door a few inches, she managed to stretch her foot back and find what she suspected to be one of the cubicles. It was just close enough, and so she readjusted her position and braced against it. It was a slight reprieve for her arms and legs, her muscles quickly tiring from the struggle to survive. Not giving up, she waited and waited…Nicholas was coming for her…he was…he definitely was.

"Nicholas?" she called out breathlessly, praying he could hear her. "Nicholas!"

The sound of her voice only reignited the Walker's interest in her, and realisation dawned on her slowly…Nicholas was gone…he had left her. A mournful sob passed her lips, and she tried to stem the rising panic. She wouldn't be able to hold this door shut for much longer, perhaps a few minutes or so. Nicholas had the advantage of space…he still had his gun, all his weapons, so where was he? Did he think she was dead already?

"Nicholas!" she called out again. Risking it, she took one hand off the door and reached for the radio clipped to her belt. Her heart sank even more as she realised it only the plastic of the broken clip remained, that it must have broken off during the scuffle. "Oh, shit…shit…"

As her fate dawned on her and panic rose, Carrie started to break down. She wasn't ready for this. After everything she'd been through, after Granger's group, losing Sue and then being on her own for months, she'd been ready to die, she'd accepted it and welcomed it. But in the space of just two weeks, everything had changed.

She wasn't ready to die anymore.

* * *

A/N Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed the influx of drama here. Things never quite run smoothly for Rick and the group. Please take a few moments to review, my beta AngieB and I love reading your thoughts and feedback. Thanks.


	37. Chapter 37

A/N - Response to a Guest reviewer - I try to post a new chapter around every 1 - 2 weeks. It depends how busy I am with university, and also how far ahead I am with my draft chapters (I like to have plenty up my sleeve before posting them so that there's time for me to "incubate" ideas and then go back to fix things). I highly recommend you get a FanFiction account and sign up for the alerts, so that you get an email for every new chapter posted.

Thanks for all the great reviews guys, I'm glad you're enjoying the added drama.

* * *

 _"Nicholas!" she called out again. Risking it, she took one hand off the door and reached for the radio clipped to her belt. Her heart sank even more as she realised it only the plastic of the broken clip remained, that it must have broken off during the scuffle. "Oh, shit…shit…"_

 _As her fate dawned on her and panic rose, Carrie started to break down. She wasn't ready for this. After everything she'd been through, after Granger's group, losing Sue and then being on her own for months, she'd been ready to die, she'd accepted it and welcomed it. But in the space of just two weeks, everything had changed._

 _She wasn't ready to die anymore._

The Walkers snarled and clawed at the other side of the bathroom door, their weight and repeated attempts to get in quickly weakening Carrie. Struggling to catch her breath, she pushed against the cubicle wall which she braced her foot against, using the leverage to keep the door closed. It was a fight she was quickly beginning to lose, her whole body protesting the strain she put it under, her limbs trembling and on the verge of giving in. But while it was getting harder, Carrie refused to give up. She had already ascertained that by some miracle she wasn't scratched or bit, that she still had a chance. This was not it for her, this was not the end of the road. After everything she had been through, after the incredible fight she had made to survive, to be there with Rick and his group, she couldn't give up now.

Sucking in a deep breath, she knew she was going to have to get herself out of this. Even if Nicholas did make it back to Michonne and Aidan, Carrie's strength wasn't going to last that long. Her body was not what it used to be, and her strength had wasted away over four months of living hand to mouth. Two weeks of regular meals and protein shakes had helped, but not to the extent that she needed today. She felt like she was going to puke, the physical strain combined with the stench of the dead Walker making her feel like she'd lose her lunch at any second. Pushing past this, she took a deep breath and stopped bracing her foot against the cubicle behind her.

Not letting her force on the door lapse, Carrie slowly stood up and turned around, using her back to hold the door closed. There was a moment of panic when she felt her boots sliding yet again, the tiled floor slippery with blood from the Walker that lay by her feet. Scrambling for something to hold on to, she spread her arms out to either side, gratefully finding what felt like an electric hand dryer on her left. Using that to steady herself, she reached her other hand into her back pocket, finding the small torch she had used that afternoon at Walmart.

Not wanting to drop it, she brought it around to her front very slowly and then turned it on. Her heart filled with elation as the beam of light illuminated her surroundings, the knowledge helping her feel a little more in control. Breathing deeply, she shone it around the restroom, taking note of the three cubicles along the far wall and the line of sinks to her left. Her plan was formulated in a second, and she knew it would work…she could take on all of these Walkers, but not if they were coming at her all at once. She needed to control them, to keep them at a distance until she was ready to deal with them individually. Setting her sights on the very last cubicle, she prayed that the lock on the inside wasn't broken.

Not even two minutes after Nicholas abandoned her, she took her chances, knowing she was the only one who could help her right now. Taking note of where the dead Walker lay, lest she accidentally trip over it, she grit her teeth and made a run for the last cubicle. Her legs buckled beneath her, but not until they got her all the way to the final cubicle, and it was there that she fell to the ground. But with no time to rest, Carrie forced herself back up, and she slammed the door closed and fumbled to find the lock. She could hear the Walkers coming in now, and she dimly noted that one of them fell over as they entered. Finding the lock, her trembling fingers clumsily managed to close it just as the Walkers threw themselves against it.

She let out a shout of relief, feeling like she might collapse in relief. With another deep breath, she instead staggered backwards and climbed up onto the toilet, not caring that one foot slipped and landed in the bowl. Confident that the lock would hold for as long as she needed it to, she shone her flashlight downwards to the gap between the floor and the walls of the cubicle. Having taken the last one, there were only two areas she needed to watch, the bottom of the door, and the bottom of the cubicle next to her. There was no way to tell exactly how many Walkers were out there, but it didn't matter. Just as she had hoped, the Walkers were scrambling to get to her, getting down onto the floor and trying to reach underneath the cubicle.

Carrie tentatively stepped down from the toilet, but kept her feet on the far side of it, not wanting them to get a grip on her ankle. Holding her flashlight in one hand and her knife in the other, she waited until she saw a head coming underneath the cubicle, and then she dove for it. Plunging her knife through the skull, she tore it back out and then stood back again, waiting for the next opportunity. One by one the Walkers presented themselves to her, and one by one she took them out, using the walls of the cubicle to protect her as she did so. Using her knife, she pulled the third Walker out of the way to make room for the next, the gap being just enough. Slowly but surely, the next Walker reached underneath the cubicle, determinedly wriggling itself under and exposing its head.

When she plunged her knife into the fourth skull there was silence, and Carrie gave an almighty cry of relief. Standing in the toilet cubicle with four dead Walkers at her feet, her hand and feet slippery with blood and gore, she only just managed not to break down into tears again. She couldn't believe it…there was silence now, possibly the most beautiful silence she had ever heard. But there was no time to dwell on how close she had come, on how hard she had fought to save her own life…she needed to find Nicholas.

Opening the lock, she forcefully wrenched the cubicle door open and shone her flashlight out into the restroom, looking for any signs that the Walkers might still be alive. She stumbled over the dead Walkers and left the cubicle, bracing herself against the sinks when she felt her legs beginning to shake again. Going ever so slowly, she reached the door and then hesitated again, listening carefully. There was no way any Walkers hadn't heard the commotion in this restroom…if there were any more they would be making themselves known by now. With that in mind, she slowly opened the door and looked out, squinting as the light shone inside.

Opening the door properly, she groaned as she stepped back out into the corridor, her knees buckling again and sending her to her knees for a moment. Lightheaded, she pressed her palms onto the floor and breathed slowly, getting herself together. As tears of relief slid down her cheeks again, she slowly looked up, seeing a dead Walker halfway down the hallway. Thinking of Nicholas, Carrie took another deep breath as she got to her feet, feeling steadier now. Standing tall, she slowly walked down the hallway and retrieved her gun, and remembering her prior mistake, she put a round in the chamber before holstering it again. A few feet away lay the radio that had dislodged from her belt when she had fallen, but she didn't let herself get excited to see it. Noting that the antennae was snapped clean off, she tried to get a signal anyway, but was only greeted by static. Nevertheless she kept it and headed down the hallway, past the dead Walker.

There were two more out in the large reception hall, the stab wounds to their heads indicating that Nicholas had taken them down. All together there had been eight Walkers trapped behind the door Carrie had told Nicholas not to open, eight Walkers that had burst out on him and trapped her in the corridor. Nicholas had taken down three of them…and then let the last five go after her, leaving her for dead. Later, anger would surge through her veins, fury would see her demanding to know why he had left her, but now was not the time for that. Dimly noting that in his panic Nicholas had still thought to take their pack of supplies, Carrie braced herself before departing the building, gratefully breathing in the fresh, clean air outside.

A part of her expected to find Nicholas waiting for her outside, to find him with his head in his hands or frantically calling out to the others, but another part of her was unsurprised to find that she was completely alone. Clearing her throat, she held back yet another bout of tears, using her clean hand to brush her hair off her face. The car was gone, which made sense of course, and as she stood in the centre of the road and looked around, she wondered how far Michonne and Aidan were. Her bottom lip trembled as she realised how stupid she had been earlier…she hadn't been able to remember the village map, and she hadn't paid attention to the path Nicholas had taken from where they left Aidan and Michonne.

She knew only which direction they had come from before arriving at the reception centre, and that was where she was looking now. Checking her watch, she saw that only fifteen minutes had passed since they had separated from Aidan and Michonne. Nicholas would be looking for them in the infirmary or the red zoned bungalows, but would he be able to find them? Would he be able to alert them to what had happened any time soon? Given the difficulty in navigating around this retirement village, she considered this to be unlikely.

Nicholas had already left her once…he wouldn't be returning to the reception centre to check on her, to be absolutely sure that she was dead. The only person who would insist on it would be Michonne, Carrie trusting that she would not leave without being absolutely sure. But consulting her watch again, she figured it would be at least another forty five minutes until she and Aidan were due to return to their meeting point…if Carrie could get back there before then…if she could -

Hearing familiar sounds behind her, Carrie turned and looked around, surprised to find that the road behind her was growing populated with Walkers. Until now the entire village had seemed rather lifeless, but perhaps Nicholas had squealed the tyres as he fled. That might have roused any that were hanging about. Already she could see three of them down one street, and six of them down the other. Though they seemed intimidating, nine Walkers were not normally too much for her to handle, particularly when they were spread out and she was armed with a gun.

She thought she could take them on…they were spaced out enough for her to even taken her time, but when one suddenly appeared in a garden nearby her, she lurched back defensively. With the clip for her radio broken, she clumsily shoved it into the back of her jeans, glad they were still a little loose, and she took out her machete instead. With her gun in one hand and machete in the other, she made a split second decision to make a run for it. Heading in the direction which she and Nicholas had come, she slipped past two more Walkers and broke into a jog. There had to be at least a dozen by now, each come from different directions, and there would be more soon.

What she was doing made perfect sense, even though a small voice in her head told her she should be staying put. If there were more Walkers coming, she couldn't afford to be firing her gun without a silencer, nor would she be able to take them all on with just her machete. She couldn't seek refuge in the reception centre, not with it's enormous glass windows, and her access to the other buildings was blocked by Walkers already. Her best option was to be on the move, to get away from the location to which the Walkers were being drawn and instead catch up to Nicholas.

If she was fast, and lucky, then she would find him before the shock of what had happened to her actually set in.

* * *

The two hours they had allowed for scavenging were drawing to a close, a reassurance to Rick who never liked it when the group separated. Sitting on the hood of the delivery van next to Carl, they shared a pack of potato chips as they waited for Abraham and Rosita to get back from the veterinary surgery down the road. With a rifle across both their laps and a good view of the surrounding areas, they were content to sit and wait for them, even though Rick would have normally taken the opportunity to check out a few other places while he waited. But today he was limited by Carl, by his lack of quick mobility, and so he settled for the potato chips and comfortable silence, enjoying the opportunity for them to sit alone together for a little while.

It was nice the two of them just sitting there, enjoying one another's company. It had been so long since they had spent time one on one they way they used to down at the prison gardens, and he had started to forget how much he actually enjoyed his son's company. It was in the gardens where he and Carl tended to talk the most, short bursts of conversation cropping up in between their various tasks. That also tended to be where the tentative questions about sex came up, Carl making the occasional enquiry as they tilled the earth or scrubbed Violet's water trough. Rick had no doubt that these questions were perfectly timed to coincide with the tasks that tended to require the most strenuous work, Carl likely wanting a reason to disguise why his cheeks were suddenly so red.

After successfully clearing the Planned Parenthood centre of Walkers, Rick braced himself for the inevitable questions to begin, knowing that Carl was going to be curious about the items they were scavenging. The moment Abraham and Rosita departed to check out the veterinary clinic up the road, the questions had begun, Carl frowning as he looked at a blister pack of birth control. Although part of Rick was insistent that fourteen was too young to be learning about sex, a quieter, more rational voice told him that if the questions were coming, they needed to be answered. Suspecting the quieter voice was Lori lingering in the back of his mind, he answered every question as accurately as he could, although he and Carl were both happy to maintain minimal eye contact throughout their time in the centre.

Despite his reservations, Rick was glad Carl was coming to him with these questions, that he wasn't too embarrassed to ask him. If he was getting curious about sex he'd rather Carl come to him for answers rather than get misinformation elsewhere. And yet when Carl opened a box of condoms, tore the wrapper off one and unrolled it with a curious look on his face, the only question he voiced was, "Can you use these as water balloons?"

Still amused by Carl's priorities, Rick glanced up at the sky as it began to rain, annoyed by the dark clouds overhead. He'd been hoping to give Carl another chance to drive tomorrow, and though a little rain would be a good experience for him, the clouds above were threatening torrential levels. For now though it was only a little, and neither of them were bothered by it, preferring to instead enjoy the fresh air. They'd spent too much time sitting in the cars for the last few weeks.

"Hey Dad," Carl began slowly. "What are we doing for Mom on Monday?"

The question threw Rick for a loop, having been avoiding the thought of the day that was coming up. While he was naturally looking forward to celebrating Judith's first birthday, he knew that wasn't the only significance of the day…he just didn't know how to approach it. The notion that they celebrated Judith's life on the day that Lori had died was difficult for him to rationalise…even more so when it felt like Lori had been dead for a very long time, not one year.

"I was thinking…" Rick began, his mind scrambling to come up with something. "That we'd start by making pancakes for breakfast. Just you and me…we can cook them for everyone."

Carl slowly nodded. "Judith too?"

"She can be our taste tester."

His lips parting to respond, Carl stopped himself. Down the street ahead of them, a Walker shuffled into the intersection, and so they fell silent as they waited to see if it spotted them. Vigilant, Rick carefully stood up a little and looked in all directions, making sure that it was really just one. Satisfied, he sat back down, shaking his head when he saw that Carl was now holding a can of Pepsi.

"Wait," he whispered.

They watched the Walker's slow progress as it made it's way across the intersection ahead, never noticing the two humans sitting only a dozen yards away. Rick's hand twitched on his machete, feeling as though he had an itch he couldn't scratch, even though letting the Walker go was the rational choice. Though they were otherwise alone, Rick didn't want to leave Carl on his own, not with his mobility so impaired.

"Dad. When we make pancakes, can leave out the lumps?"

A smile crossed Rick's face. "You didn't like the lumps?" he asked, pretending to be surprised.

Carl shook his head. "Not really."

"Sure, we can make them without the lumps."

"How come you never complained about it?" Carl asked, finally opening the Pepsi. "You never told Mom how bad they were."

"They weren't always bad. Besides, it was important to her."

"Pancakes were important?"

"Yes," he simply answered, knowing Carl wouldn't quite understand what Lori intended every time she made her family pancakes.

Accepting this, Carl took a long, indulgent drink of the Pepsi, pausing before he burped with a laugh. Desiring the sweetness, for soda was a luxury afforded to the few, Rick gestured his hand for the can, he too taking an indulgent sip.

"I thought you didn't like Pepsi," Carl commented. "I thought you liked Coke."

"I don't like Pepsi. But you know what they say about beggars."

"They can't be choosers?"

"That's right." Taking another sip before passing it back, Rick grimaced as he too burped, stifling the sound with his fist. As he suspected he might, Carl laughed under his breath.

"That was a good effort," he praised. "But I can only give that a five out of ten."

"I'm sorry to let you down. I'll try har…" Rick trailed off, noticing that Carl was leaning to his left. "Hey, don't fart!" he hissed, roughly elbowing him. "It'll echo on the hood, we'll have every Walker in town here."

Laughing, Carl at least had the decency to apologise. "What's the definition of bravery?"

Sighing, Rick looked around at their surroundings, checking they were still safe. "Is this a fart joke?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"I've heard them all."

"So what's the definition of bravery?" Carl challenged him.

"The first fart after diarrhoea."

Predictably, Carl laughed. "Abraham told me that one."

"What do you get when you mix cabbage, beans and onions?"

"What?"

"Tear gas in your pants."

Carl laughed again, stifling it behind his hand. "Remember that time you made me laugh so hard I peed my pants?"

Easily remembering the moment, for it was one he wouldn't ever forget, Rick grinned at him. "Yes," he said, glancing up the street when he saw Abraham and Rosita appear. "You know I told your mom, right?"

"What?" Carl moaned in embarrassment, his cheeks tinged pink now. "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone!"

"Oh come on, you were six," he said apologetically, still remembering how he struggled to keep a straight face when he told Lori. "And I had to tell her. She kept asking me why I did a load of laundry with hardly anything in it."

Carl looked at him mistrustfully. "Who else did you tell?"

"No one, I promise," Rick lied. _Shane, both sets of Grandparents…Lori's friend Monique._

"You better not have," he grumbled, though he perked up a little when Abraham and Rosita reached the car.

"You two done slacking off?" Rosita griped, dropping her pack with a long sigh.

Carl shrugged. "We're not slacking off, we were just faster than you."

"Any trouble?" Abraham asked, heading around to the back of the delivery van.

"No," Rick answered, picking up the pack Rosita had dropped he followed Abraham around the back. "You?"

"Aside from dead cats and dogs stinking the place up?" he grumbled, opening the doors. "No. We got some good stuff though. All the meds were cleared out, but plenty of equipment, needles, cords…Pete can tell us if it's useful or not."

"Same here, plenty of contraceptives. As for expiry dates, that's Pete's problem."

"I've got the details of another vet surgery on the outskirts of town, seems like it's more for live stock. Could be untouched if it's on the outskirts."

Although he was in agreement with this presumption, Rick was reluctant. "I'd rather we leave it. I don't want us to stray too far from where the others expect us to be, not with night coming in an hour or so."

As if to support this notion, Rick glanced up to see the arrival of the grey minivan. For some reason, Michonne's group had met up with them a few minutes early, something they wouldn't have been able to do if they had strayed from their agreed areas.

"What about a drive by tomorrow before we haul ass?"

"That's fine with me," Rick nodded in agreement. Still watching the minivan, he frowned to see Aidan and Nicholas getting out of the front seats, while Carrie and Michonne appeared to wait inside. "It could prove useful in the future."

"You want to get some live stock for Alexandria?"

"Yes. Don't tell me you haven't been dreaming of a nice thick porterhouse."

Abraham moaned, closing the doors to the removal van. "Medium rare, with a creamy pepper sauce and mashed potatoes."

"We could have fresh milk if we get a dairy cow," Rick added, following him back to the others. "Fresh butter and cream. Carol knows how to make ice cream…"

Rick trailed off, a feeling of dread creeping up on him as he approached the others. Aidan and Nicholas were already out of the car, but it was their body language that had Rick's hackles raised…they looked upset, their faces ashen, and the longer Rick looked the more his heart sank. Rosita was standing with her hand over her mouth, while Carl was frozen on the hood of the delivery van, his face white. Taking a slow breath, Rick sought out Michonne for an explanation, looking around for her…unable to find her, he started towards the minivan. It was empty…no Michonne, and no Carrie either.

He turned to Aidan and Nicholas. "Where are they?" he enquired bluntly, his brain scrambling to come up with an explanation. They were with another group, they were back at Walmart…there was an explanation. When Aidan and Nicholas didn't answer, Rick shouted impatiently, "Where are they?"

"Is Michonne okay?" Carl asked fearfully, bracing himself for the answer.

His hands nervously clenched in his pockets, Aidan looked at Rick. "Michonne's fine," he told him, his voice wavering. "It's Carrie…she's dead."

On face value the words made sense, and though they were simple enough, Rick found he didn't understand. He looked at Aidan blankly, trying to wrap his head around what he had just been told.

"Carrie's dead?"

Aidan nodded, his face crestfallen. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it seemed words were lost, and he simply stood there, awaiting Rick's reaction. Still trying to make sense of what had been said, Rick looked at Rosita and then Abraham, waiting for them to explain…to clarify that a mistake had been made. When they did nothing of the sort he turned his attention to Nicholas. His face was pink and his body language defensive and frightened. Observing the way he stood fractionally behind Aidan, as though seeking his protection, everything began clicking into place. When he realised he had Rick's full attention he averted his eyes, and it was then that Rick realised that it was him…he was responsible for this.

"What happened?" he demanded, speaking directly to Nicholas. "Nicholas?"

Shifting uncomfortably, he glanced up at Aidan before he answered. "She opened a door without my back up," he softly explained. "They just came at her. I'm sorry, Rick. I tried, but I couldn't get to her…"

There was a long silence now, and standing there in utter disbelief, Rick just looked between the two of them. "Carrie?"

"Yes."

"She's dead?"

Nicholas nodded. There was silence all around, Rick feeling numb with shock. Even though a part of him was just about ready to sink to his knees, the rest of him was filled with sheer disbelief. It couldn't be possible…not Carrie. Surely not her. She was careful, just like he was. Looking between them, Rick took in Aidan and Nicholas' expressions of sorrow, and from the corner of his eye seeing Carl beginning to shake. The silence stretched on, a heavy weight settling on Rick's chest as he felt a chill seeping through his body.

"Did you see it?" he blankly asked Nicholas.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"They came at her."

Rick blinked. "And that's all you saw?"

"She was on the floor, they were on top of her," Nicholas insisted regretfully. "There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

"Did you actually see her die?" he demanded, raising his voice.

"Yes! I could hear her screaming."

"Where's Michonne?" he asked next, looking around and confirming her absence. He wanted to hear this from her, from someone he trusted. "She was with you. Where is she now?"

"She went back," Aidan explained softly.

Their stupidity rendered him momentarily speechless, and he gaped at them in horror. "And you…you left her there?" he said incredulously. "You just -"

"She wanted to stay," Aidan cut him off.

"So you leave her?" he questioned, starting forward angrily

"Rick," Abraham began softly, grabbing him by the arm. "Rick, let's get everyone back to base. It'll be dark soon…we need to get back to base."

The gesture was enough to stop him, but Rick shrugged Abraham's hand off. "No," he said forcefully.

There was an awkward pause, all of them looking to each other as they tried to gauge Rick's reaction, his next move. Not knowing what to do, he just stood there in silence for a few moments, waiting for the ball to drop. Carrie was dead…but she couldn't possibly be. Not her…not after everything she had gone through to survive, she couldn't possible be killed so easily, so suddenly. Looking back to Aidan and Nicholas, he thought about the brief glance they had shared before Nicholas gave his explanation, wondering how much he should read into it.

"She opened a door without my back up," Nicholas had said. Carrie was impulsive and rash on occasion, but she wasn't stupid. It didn't make sense, but he felt completely frozen, unable to act…he didn't know what to do.

"Dad." Carl's voice dragged him back, making him look around at him. He was already climbing down from the hood and getting his crutches ready, and Rick knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Dad…let's go."

He hesitated for only a moment, knowing Carl was right. Aside from the need to retrieve Michonne, if Carrie was indeed dead, he wanted proof. He needed to see it with his own eyes. After everything she had been through, after everything they had shared together, he owed her that much.

"Minivan, back seat," he instructed Carl, turning to Aidan. "Has she got a radio? Has Michonne got a radio?"

"No," Aidan shook his head. "But Carrie did…she had one."

"And you've tried calling her on it?"

"I…I didn't see the point." He sighed when he saw the anger on Rick's face. "Nicholas saw it happen."

"Get in the minivan," he growled angrily, wasting no time. "Nicholas. You stay with Abraham. Do not fucking leave his side, is that clear?" he shouted.

Nicholas just nodded.

"Get his story," he hissed to Abraham as he walked past him. "Press for details."

Abraham tried to stop him for a moment. "Let me go instead. You shouldn't have to see."

"Just do it!" he snapped, not wanting a debate.

Checking that Carl had everything he needed, Rick swung himself into the driver's seat of the minivan and started it up, not bothering to adjust the seat back before taking off. The wheels squealed as he took off, the occupants swaying as he took a corner roughly and then sped off. There was only awful silence, prompting Rick to take his radio off his hip and pass it back to Carl.

"Call out to Carrie," he told him. "Tell her to respond if she can hear you."

"Rick," Aidan started hesitantly. "She-"

"Start from the very beginning," he interrupted him, wanting to hear what Aidan had to say now that he and Nicholas were separated.

"She's dead, Rick. He could hear her screaming."

"I'm not asking for your assessment of the situation," Rick told him, violently swerving around a Walker as he listened to Carl on the radio. "Start from when you left Walmart."

Aidan nodded, taking a deep breath before he started. "We left Walmart, got to Eastridge. It was massive, so we decided to split up."

"Who went with who?"

"Michonne and I went to the medical centre. Nicholas went with Carrie to the reception and recreation areas."

"Whose idea what that? To split up?"

"I…I don't remember. We were low on time, so we just did."

"Where exactly did it happen?"

"The reception building."

"Keep going," Rick prompted him, his stomach squirming as Glenn's voice came across the radio, asking what the problem was.

"Everything was going fine. Nicholas and Carrie had the car…he suddenly turned up and told us what happened."

"And what did he say?"

"Exactly what he told you," Aidan insisted. "She opened a door without him, and they came at her."

Gripping the steering wheel, Rick glanced into the rear view mirror, making eye contact with Carl. "And how did that result in Michonne being left behind too?"

"We didn't leave her behind," he said vehemently. "She practically jumped out of the car. We wanted to get back to the group, she wanted to stay. We didn't leave her behind."

"No, you only left Carrie behind," Rick muttered under his breath, his tone venomous.

There was a short pause, and he could tell Aidan was choosing his words carefully. "She's dead, Rick. Nicholas said he saw her go down, he could hear her screaming. Sorry, but I didn't want to see that."

Holding his tongue, Rick focused on driving. Thankfully his own group hadn't gone too far from Walmart, and they were back there within a few short minutes. Entering the carpark, he brought the car skidding to a stop alongside where they had abandoned the red sedan they no longer needed.

"Carl, get in the front," Rick began, glancing back at him before turning to Aidan. "You, get out."

Wasting no time, he left the car running as he stepped out and gave Aidan a once over, seeing what weapons he had on him. Heading for the truck, Rick climbed up the side steps and reached behind the driver's seat to find what he would need. Jumping down, he thrust a pair of binoculars and another hand held radio at him.

"Get on the cabin, and watch the highway."

"Rick," Aidan began, knowing what he was getting at. "She's not coming back here."

"Get on that truck, and wait for her!" Rick growled at him, clenching his jaw as he resisted the need to drive his instructions home with a well placed punch. "This is your only job!"

Without waiting for his response, Rick headed back to the minivan and got in, slamming the door shut as he reached for the map in the centre console.

"Glenn wants to know what they should do," Carl began. "Abraham too."

"Tell them to stay where they are."

As Carl relayed this instruction, Rick pored his eyes over the map, quickly ascertaining where they were now and where they needed to be. He knew the city centre well enough, but he hadn't been to the outskirts, having not needed to. Pointing out the appropriate details to Carl, he gave him his next task.

"This is where we are now…we're going to turn around and go this direction. Michonne and Carrie are in this retirement village, here. Get us there."

Starting the car, he left Carl in charge of navigating as they took off with squealing tyres, his sharp U-turn rocking them about. In the rear view mirror he caught sight of Aidan climbing on top of the removal truck, and with him on watch he sped off down the highway. He tried not to dwell on how helpless he felt right now, knowing that the only thing he could do was get there as soon as possible. The thought of what had happened, that it had happened to Carrie…he needed to see Michonne. If Carrie was dead, he wasn't going to believe it until it came from the mouth of someone he trusted. There was no doubt in his mind that Michonne would have gone back to look for her, to be absolutely sure that there was no saving her.

"Dad," Carl began softly. "Did you separate Aidan and Nicholas because you think they're lying?"

"Yes."

"Turn right here…no, the next one."

Following his directions, he glanced at Carl. Through the midst of his panic and fear, he was proud of his son's perceptiveness. "What makes you think they're lying?" he asked.

"I don't know. Something. Slow down, let me see the street sign…okay, keep going."

Weaving in and out of abandoned cars and dodging Walkers, their progress was slower than Rick desired, every passing second reminding him of how much time mattered. He told himself again and again to not wait for things, to stop believing that he had all the time in the world…the one occasion that he had taken advantage of an opportunity like Carrie, to open up and share parts of himself with another person, this was what happened.

By now he knew that things happened quickly, that circumstances changed in an instant. Beth had taught them that, taught them to never let their guard down and think it was over, and then Tyreese taught them a second time round. But the lesson never sank in, Rick constantly finding himself relaxed and comfortable, believing that things could be different. He'd felt like that with Carrie, that things were going so well and that they'd keep going well. Once they got back to Alexandria, they'd…well he didn't know what they'd do, or where their secret trysts together would take them…but he'd believed it would happen nonetheless. It just went to show how stupid he was…how juvenile it was to believe that something good could last.

Hitting a clear stretch of road, he lowered the gas pedal and sent them flying, hoping that Carl could keep up with where they were. Following his directions, Rick focused on keeping his breathing steady, on trying to keep himself calm and in control. They finally passed a large sign that read Eastridge, and so Rick turned into the gated retirement village and started looking for any indication of where they would find the recreation centre. He drove slower than he would have liked, almost immediately confused and disoriented. The streets all looked the same, and he drove for over a minute before hitting a dead end. Frustrated, he turned around and headed back the way they had come, but not before taking a good look around, just incase. There were no street signs, no indication of where the reception building might be.

Lowering his window, he prompted Carl to do the same. "Keep an eye out for them."

"Go down here," Carl said suddenly, pointing to their right. "The leaves on the road…they're all messed up."

"Good spot."

Following Carl's lead, Rick headed down that road, the messed up leaves a sure indication that someone had driven a car down this road very recently. Going slowly, they carefully looked around for signs of life, the houses and gardens completely overgrown and making visibility poor. Taking the time to look properly, Rick tried to prepare himself for what they would find. Luck was rarely of his side anymore, and although Carrie was strong, she couldn't take on a group of Walkers if they were all on top of her, pinning her to the ground. He knew he had to be prepared to find her dead…that there was nothing he could do if that was the case.

Rick's heart rate began to increase, suddenly coming across a large number of dead Walkers that lay on the ground, their missing heads indicating that Michonne was nearby. Just as this thought occurred to him the road ahead widened, and suddenly they found themselves passing by a small parking lot. Looking around, he took note of each building until something caught his eye. He slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a lurching halt. Swearing his his palms hit the dash, Carl looked at him in surprise, questioning what he had seen. Not entirely sure, Rick frowned as he got out of the car, peering at the vaulted roof of the reception building. He could have sworn he had seen something there…a brief flash of movement.

"Michonne?" he called out.

Barely a moment later, a head popped up on the vaulted roof, Michonne expertly making her way to the peak. Seeing him, she gave him a quick nod before disappearing again, and so Rick quickly hustled Carl to get out of the car, helping him with his crutches. Together they raced over towards the building, Rick's heart racing when Michonne suddenly appeared around the side.

"Rick," she began urgently, getting straight to the point. "She's alive."

Stopping in his tracks, Rick felt all the breath leaving his body. "Alive?" he questioned weakly.

"Yes. I don't know where she is, or whether she's hurt, but she got out of here."

"She's alive?" he confirmed, engulfed in relief when Michonne nodded. Feeling weak at the knees, he echoed her nod. "S-shit…There's no sign of her?"

"None. I've been up on the roof looking for her, but I can't see much."

Swearing again, he turned around on the spot and looked, imagining Carrie out here on these streets all alone, looking for Nicholas, for all of them. The thought of her all by herself was frightening, though she was armed and capable. Knowing they had to act quickly he took looked over at Carl who still had the radio.

"Call the others, tell them to get over here and start searching. Remind Aidan to stay at Walmart."

As Carl got to his task, Rick turned back to Michonne, his question on the tip of his tongue. "What happened?"

"Difficult to say without talking to Carrie," she said cryptically.

"What do you think happened?" he asked again.

Michonne considered her answer very carefully, looking him in the eye before ushering him to follow her inside the building. Making sure Carl was coming too, Rick followed her inside the reception building, his eyes scanning the room and immediately making an assessment. Observing the first two dead Walkers, he took note of the direction in which they had fallen. Someone had defensively killed them as they backed away, fleeing the building.

"Nicholas said they came at her, and that he couldn't do anything," Michonne began, sweeping past the dead Walkers. She led him towards a long corridor where another Walker lay dead. "Men's room on the left…five dead ones. No Carrie."

Standing at the mouth of the corridor, Rick hesitated before going down there, Michonne's reassurance that he wasn't going to find Carrie's body being the only thing that prompted him to go. On his immediate right was an open door, the stench from inside indicating that this was the door Carrie had supposedly opened without back up. Pausing there, he considered it's proximity to the reception area, trying to picture a scene in which Carrie, fleeing from Walkers, had ended up down the corridor instead of out in the reception.

Glancing back at Michonne, he continued down the corridor, glancing into the only other door that was open. It was an office, the contents of which were relatively undisturbed but for a dark smear on the door. Noting that the smear had been left by a Walker, and recently, he stepped into the office and looked behind the desk. There was an open drawer, a handbag dropped on the floor…the pack of tampons sitting on the centre of the desk indicated someone had been in here to scavenge. Returning to the corridor, he lingered outside the men's room and took out his flashlight, noting the copious blood smears on the door.

The stench of Walkers greeted him straight away, and he grimaced as he shone his flashlight inside and looked around. The restroom was small, consisting of only three cubicles and some sinks, and his attention was immediately taken by the dead Walkers. Stepping inside a little, he looked behind the door and critiqued the bloody foot prints smeared on the tiles, taking in the other evidence on the wall and back of the door. It wasn't difficult for him to see what had happened here, and he pictured the scene playing out in his head.

Putting it all together, he visualised Carrie bracing her foot against the rear wall, trying to hold the door shut as the Walkers pounded on the other side. The severed arm on the floor indicated that she had hacked it off to try and close the door, but after that her strength must have waned, forcing her to seek safety in one of the cubicles. One Walker lay dead by the door, others lay face down halfway under the third cubicle. Observing their positions, he pictured Carrie locking herself inside, using it to protect herself long enough to take the Walkers down one by one.

Coming back out into the corridor, he stood at the very end and looked down it, seeing Michonne and Carl waiting at the other end. Breathing in the fresher air, Rick headed back for the second office where the Walkers had been hidden, trying to picture something that would make Carrie open the door without back up. Despite what Nicholas claimed, Rick just couldn't see her doing that. At the very least she would have knocked on it first, she would have known to do that. While he acknowledged that she was impulsive and rash on occasion, that she was still adjusting to the way their group worked together, doing this was sheer stupidity.

Carrie was many things, but stupid was not one of them…there was only one other person involved in this situation, and they were more than suited to the title of stupid.

Clenching his jaw, Rick glanced at Michonne. "Can you see this happening?"

With one hand on her hip, Michonne slowly shook her head thoughtfully. "No."

Glad they were on the same page, he looked over his shoulder. "What Nicholas said does not make sense. With the direction this door opens, if she was the one to do it then she would have run for the reception, not for a dead end corridor."

"Yes."

"She was back the other office," he thought out loud, gesturing to the other office that was open. "Nicholas opens this door, he makes a run for it into the reception. Carrie gets trapped in the corridor."

"Yes," Michonne agreed after a long pause. "I don't know what time this all happened, but when he found Aidan and I, we'd already been separated from each other almost half an hour. By the time I got in the minivan and realised she wasn't there too, he'd already driven off. We'd almost reached the exit by the time I convinced him to stop and let me out."

Knowing they had wasted enough time already, Rick gave Carl what he hoped was a reassuring nod before they headed for the door.

"Glenn's group are on their way," Carl told him. "They should only be five minutes. Abraham's coming too. He's coming from the north, just in case she goes that way."

"It's been what, maybe an hour since it happened?" Rick said, getting back outside and seeing that it was raining now. "She could be anywhere by now."

"Rick," Michonne began, reassuring him. "She's either going back to Walmart, or she'll find somewhere safe and stay there for the night. She's smart. She won't spend any more time on foot than she has to."

"It's going to be dark soon," he sighed, his stomach twisting in worry. He looked around, feeling as though she was right there, that he was going to find her any second. "We might have less than an hour of light."

"We'll find her," Michonne firmly assured him.

Pausing for a moment, Rick took a deep breath, knowing that letting panic get the better of him wasn't going to help. Despite this, the thought of what had happened to her played in his mind again and again, and he pictured the injuries she might have sustained, the bites that would seal her fate. She wasn't even wearing her jacket, he'd seen it left in the back of the minivan. That at least would have afforded her some protection. Against his will, he pictured the state in which they might find her in a few hours, that she had died and her corpse was shuffling down the road towards him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Carl? Let's go."

"I'll stay here," Michonne decided, already heading back to the reception building. "I'll keep looking for her from the roof."

"I'll send Daryl this way, we'll see if he can track her."

He and Carl headed for the minivan again, Rick lingering to help him with his crutches. Slamming the door shut, he tossed the crutches into the back before heading for the driver's seat, unsure of where he would even begin searching for Carrie. Choosing to stick to the roads that he knew would lead to the exit, he started in that direction.

"Why didn't she wait here?" Carl asked in concern. Winding down his window, he called out Carrie's name.

"The Walkers," he answered softly, driving over two of the ones Michonne had decapitated. "There were probably too many for her to risk taking on."

"But she should have stayed around here," Carl said in frustration, trying to understand.

Sharing his frustration, Rick nodded his head. "She's scared," he said out loud, feeling the same thing. "Maybe she thought she'd be able to catch up to Nicholas."

"I don't believe him," Carl said harshly, his face twisted into a scowl. "You're right, it doesn't make sense."

When Rick didn't immediately answer, Carl continued.

"What do we do about that? About Nicholas?"

"What do you mean?"

"He left her for dead, and then he lied about it," he said angrily.

Rick thought very carefully before he answered. While he knew exactly what he wanted to do about it, he was also conscious of the fact that this was a moment when Carl was looking to him, learning how to handle situations like this based on his behaviour. The world wasn't simple, he knew that, but he knew Carl was watching and learning more than he realised. Trying to channel Michonne's reassuring attitude, he gave his answer.

"We need to find Carrie," he said, that being their priority. "Everything else can wait."


	38. Chapter 38

A/N Hey readers. Just letting you know I'm posting this chapter a few days early as I am travelling this week. Next chapter will be out late next week. If you haven't already, sign up to the email alerts for new chapters. Thanks for reading and for the great reviews.

* * *

Carrie knew it wouldn't be long before she'd need to rest.

She had spent over an hour lost in the retirement village, cutting through yards and doubling back on herself more times than she could count. It was clear within minutes that she should have stayed at the reception centre, that despite the Walkers, she should have waited for someone to come back for her. Being painfully lost on the maze of roads, bungalows and gardens only made it more difficult for her to be found. By the time that realisation struck her it was too late, and the damage was done. Her only choice then was to make the best of what she had gotten herself in to, to not stop trying.

By pure accident she found the highway, the congested traffic jam welcoming her the very moment her legs gave out from exhaustion. But as her lungs burned and her limbs trembled, she forced herself back up, unwilling to slow down. Although she considered herself fit enough to survive in this world, and two weeks of good meals had certainly helped, it was difficult to make her body cooperate with her. In the four months she had spent on her own she had only ever wandered at her own pace, rarely exerting herself with the need to run for her life. Today though, she was forced to run without pause, and she was struggling. She went as fast as she could, her pace constantly wavering between a jog and a pitiful walk.

The sun was lowering in the sky, increasing the urgency of her situation. She could only stay on foot while it was daylight, and she figured she had about another half hour before it got too dark to be out. She just had to make it to Walmart, and then everything would be alright. If she didn't make it there before dark, then she had to find safety for the night. She knew the group wouldn't be leaving the city that day, that they would be spending the night in the real estate office. Even if she didn't make it to Walmart, there was still time in the morning for them to find her.

Fifteen minutes down the highway, Carrie's legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed against the side of a car. Sliding down to the ground she gasped for breath, her legs burning and shaking as she allowed her body a brief reprieve. She wanted to get up and keep going, to force herself onwards, but she knew she wouldn't last. Going on like this was stupid…if she weakened herself and then encountered more than one or two Walkers, she would be a goner. Heaving for breath, she lay down on the asphalt and awkwardly shuffled underneath the car, finding comfort in the protection it gave her. She stretched her legs out and let them recover, flexing her toes in her boots as they started to get cold.

Feeling safe enough to do so, she closed her eyes and breathed slowly. It wasn't just her legs that were tired…her whole body was. She didn't exactly get a solid night of sleep last night, what with what she and Rick got up to, and although she had been well looked after by the group in many respects, she still wasn't at her peak. What she needed right now was rest, a few moments to recover before forcing herself onward again. But just as she had last night, she found herself falling asleep when she oughtn't, her body lax and comfortable as she lay in an old oil spill. She found some light sleep before something began rousing her, and by the time she roused properly the sound that had awoken her was beginning to pass. Her heart beginning to pound, she listened to the rumbling engine of a car as it soared past her on the other side of the highway.

Without thinking she burst to her feet, completely forgetting where she was. Her quick motion to get up only saw her slam her head against the underside of the car, white spots appearing in front of her eyes as she cried out in pain. Collapsing back onto her front, Carrie closed her eyes and whimpered, beginning to feel rather faint. Still able to hear the car, she clumsily shuffled along the ground and pulled herself upright, staggering as she wildly started looking around. Her vision was blurred for a few moments, but as it cleared up she managed to make out the silhouette of a car…their red sedan. By the time she managed to stumble to the other side of the highway it was too late, she was too far away for them to see her in the rear mirror, but she still felt immense relief. The red sedan had been the car they left behind at Walmart…it was someone from her group, and they were looking for her. Glancing in the direction the car had come from, she felt another jolt of relief. She was indeed on the right road, she must be close.

But just as the notion to keep going occurred to her, Carrie swayed and sank down to her knees, whimpering as the pain in the back of her head made itself known again. Feeling warmth on the back of her head, she slowly raised her hand and pressed it against the wound, feeling warm blood spilling through her hair and down the back of her neck. Faint and bleeding, she stayed where she was for as long as possible, trying to get herself together. As soon as she tried to get up she knew it was a mistake, and she promptly staggered back down to her knees. Instead she closed her eyes and leant against the car again, her hand still pressed on the wound. Breathing slowly, she tried to push past the pain, wishing she could stop feeling so dizzy.

It was barely a minute before the wrong type of company found her. Attracted by the noise of the car and her soft groans, a Walker descended upon her and forced her to clumsily flee. Still dizzy and clutching the back of her head, Carrie ran as best she could, staggering and running into cars more than she cared to admit. The Walker followed her of course, and despite her clumsiness she managed to stay well ahead of it, knowing she didn't quite have it in her to take it down right now. Instead she focused on staying upright, on putting one foot in front of the other for as long as it took for the others to find her. If one car had gone past her, it wouldn't take long for another to come past again.

A few minutes later she recovered enough to pick up the pace, and soon enough she managed to make it to Walmart, giving a cry of relief when she saw the familiar intersection. She was more than ready to fall in a heap, to let the group fuss and worry over her as she closed her eyes and slept. Christ her head hurt, and her stomach churned with nausea, but what she found brought her no comfort. Despite their agreement to reconvene there, no one was around except the dead. At first she thought she hadn't recovered as much as she thought, that she had hit her head so hard she was hallucinating. That was the only explanation that made sense, for surely there would be someone waiting for her. She knew the group had been spread out all over the town, and that when they realised she was still alive they would have all converged on the retirement village, but surely there would be someone at Walmart.

Thinking of the red sedan she had seen a little while ago, Carrie didn't give up hope. Sooner or later they would be back, everyone would be back given that it was almost sundown. Already the sun was lowering in the sky, and the grey clouds looked particularly foreboding. Wanting to stay and wait, she looked around for the military truck and removal truck, figuring she'd climb up and wait in the cabin. But to her frustration, she quickly saw that the car park was full of Walkers, that with no one on watch to take them down they had been able to build up. Realistically there weren't that many, and one or two people with a gun would have been able to take them down, but Carrie didn't trust her capabilities with any weapon right now. She couldn't get to the safety of the truck's high cabin…she wouldn't be fast or agile enough to get through the Walkers.

Instead of making a run for it towards the trucks, Carrie climbed up onto the hood of a car, her hands wet with blood as she scrambled to get onto the roof. Physically and mentally exhausted, she perched herself onto the roof of a four wheel drive and put her head in her hands, glad that the bleeding from her scalp appeared to have slowed. The Walkers were crowding around her now, their hands clamouring to reach up to her, reminding her of the time she had tried to kill Granger by dumping him off the back of a pick up into a group of Walkers. Unlike then, Carrie wanted to cry now, her emotions beginning to get the best of her.

It was getting dark, and she wouldn't be able to stay on this car for much longer. It wouldn't take long for the Walkers to get up onto the hood, and when that happened she would be a goner for sure. If the others weren't coming back any time soon, she needed to find somewhere safe to stay, preferably somewhere close by, but where the Walkers couldn't get at her. Watching the sky darken and drops of rain begin to fall, Carrie was completely torn between the need to stay and the need to do, and she wished that she had someone else with her.

Coming to her decision, she slowly got to her feet and looked around. Making absolutely sure that there was no one coming back for her, she made a break for it, having strategically chosen this car for a reason. The trunk was rammed up against the side of another, showing how in the midst of panic someone had reversed into another car. Stepping across onto the roof of the other car, she carefully lowered herself to the ground on the other side, easily getting head of the Walkers who were too slow to react.

Making a break for it, she across the car park and back towards the highway, not entirely sure of where she was going. The setting sun made it difficult to keep track of her path, all she knew was that she had to get away from the carpark…but not too far. Shadows from the buildings made it even harder to see, and within minutes she was completely lost, but it didn't matter. All she needed was to find somewhere safe, somewhere that she could lay low until dawn broke again. Having no food, water or blankets would make it an uncomfortable night, but she'd suffered worse for longer.

Finding a road that was largely free of Walkers, Carrie began paying better attention to the cars, giving up on finding a suburban street where she could spend the night in an actual bed. It was rare to find a car that was actually locked, and so finding one to spend the night in would be easy, but she needed to find a source of warmth first. Using the small flashlight Rick had given her last night, she looked into each car and assessed the contents, and it didn't take her long to find one containing bags and suitcases. Going to the driver's seat, she found the trunk latch and opened it, hastily seeking refuge from the rain when she pulled the trunk door up. Still cursing the way she had taken off her jacket that afternoon, she shivered as she opened up the bags and shone her flashlight inside, annoyed that the first bag belonged to a child. Looking through the other bags she quickly found what she needed, breathing a sigh of relief when she pulled on an oversized black jacket.

Warm enough for now, she grabbed a blanket that had been thrown into the trunk and then made another run for it. Knowing that a smaller car would be easier to warm herself in, she headed back into the rain and kept looking. Though she became even more lost the more she continued, she trusted that daylight would bring better clarity, and so she was willing to search for the most suitable type of car. A few streets later she found it, a two door hatch back making a pretty cosy place to spend the night. Thankfully there weren't any Walkers on her tail right now, and she quickly gave the car a once over before jumping in, grateful to be out of the rain again.

On instinct she locked the doors before getting comfortable, wanting the added security. Feeling that she might be able to let her guard down, she quickly set about getting herself comfortable, settling her feet on the passenger seat. Keeping her flashlight lit for now, she carefully divested herself of the machete and her knife, the handles of which were digging into her hip. Laying them out across the narrow dashboard, she made sure they were within easy reach before spreading the blanket out across her body, making sure there was plenty of it to pull up around her shoulders. She left her gun in the holster around her leg, for once feeling glad that she had it. Unlike before, there was a round in the chamber ready to fire the moment she took the safety off. Her precaution in never carrying it ready had almost seen the end of her that afternoon, and she wasn't willing to make that mistake again.

Safe and warm, Carrie put her radio in her lap and then turned off the flashlight. She'd turn it on only incrementally, just to check how time was progressing. Certain that there was going to be a very long night ahead of her, she pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and got warm, carefully resting her head back against the seat. The cut on the top of her head was still throbbing, the pain not yet beginning to recede, but she tried not to think about it. Looking outside, she wished there was a little more moonlight by which to see, the darkness making it all that much more difficult to keep track of the Walkers that were passing by. There seemed to be plenty, and although the cold air and lack of light certainly meant they were less stimulated, they were still a particular concern.

Dwelling on this, she hoped that the others had gone back to Walmart by now, that everyone was safely holed up in the real estate office. Even though she knew she would be if the situations were reversed, she didn't like the thought of everyone out looking for her after dark. It was too dangerous, even from the safety of their cars. They could run out of gas or get stuck somewhere, and then they'd really be screwed. She pictured Rick out there looking for her, both worried and furious with her at the same time. In hindsight it was easier to see that she should have stayed at the reception building after she had freed herself from the Walkers, she should have found some way to evade the dozen Walkers that turned up. But at the time, scared and full of adrenaline, the only thing that had made sense was trying to catch up to Nicholas, trying to find Michonne and Aidan.

Without warning she started to cry, moisture welling up in her eyes before she could stop it. She started thinking back to the night before, of how warm and safe she felt curled up beside Rick. His skin was hot to the touch, that in combination with the heavy blanket keeping her toasty and warm. His arm had been slung around her, his fingers tracing her back as they both fell asleep without expecting to. It had been nice, and frankly unexpected. If she were being honest, she expected that once they were done they would simply redress and head back to the underground bunker, each of them returning to their separate beds. Perhaps that's what would have happened if they hadn't fallen asleep, despite her assurance that she wouldn't let them.

What she wouldn't give to be back there now, to be asleep with his arm slung around her, their bodies helping to keep each other warm. It was cruel that she had been there not even twenty four hours ago…that they had been together again that afternoon. God, she swore she could still feel him against her, could still hear his husky voice in her ear, the memories serving only to worsen her sadness. It was a typical reality…as soon as she found something good, it changed. And she had found the epitome of good…not just another group in which to survive, but him…she didn't know what it was they had going on, but it was good. No wonder it had ended.

Thinking about that night they had led the herd away, she remembered the few hours of sleep she and Rick got together. Squeezing into the back floor of the minivan, he had held her against his chest in an effort to keep them both warm, giving her the warm jacket he had also leant her the day they met. Despite what had happened earlier that night, when they were swarmed by a herd of thousands and nearly killed, she felt completely relaxed in his arms. His body was strong just like hers used to be, his arms holding her close as she rested her head on his shoulder. He too seemed content. She had been able to feel his breaths against the top of her head, and they were slow and rhythmic, displaying how at ease he was.

It frightened her how much she wanted him again…not just to return to the group, but to him. She had been independent for so long, both before the outbreak and during. It had taken her a lot to trust him, especially to the depth she did now, but she trusted Rick impeccably…trusted him enough to sleep with him despite everything she had gone through. With startling realisation, she knew she was trusting him with her life right now. Although she couldn't claim to truly know someone after only two weeks, she knew him well enough to know he wasn't sitting around doing nothing. He was looking for her…even after night fell, he would be looking for her.

Wiping at her wet cheeks, she closed her eyes and tried to rest, knowing that actually falling asleep was going to be a long shot. Not wanting to dwell on the situation at hand, she thought about Alexandria, about the community that for now was real only in her imagination. It still felt like a pipe dream, like something that would never really be reached, even though the others assured her it was real. The whole concept was just so foreign to her now that she couldn't fathom it. Fifteen foot walls kept the dead out, allowing those inside to go about the new version of life. There were homes with food in the kitchens and water fit for drinking, basic things that she had always taken for granted, even setting aside the fact that she had more money than she could spend.

Time passed incredibly slowly, and she frequently turned on the flashlight in the hopes that another hour had passed, that she was significantly closer to morning. Yet each time she checked her watch she was subjected to the same disappointment, even though she knew that time would be moving slowly that night. Still, it was difficult not to get her hopes up, and difficult for them to be crushed each time she saw that the time had only progressed by fifteen or twenty minutes. Every time she felt cheated, and yet she never stopped checking, her flashlight clicking on and off every time. She quickly grew uncomfortably in the small space, and though she knew it was easier to stay warmer in a small car, she couldn't help but relish the thought of stretching out in the back of a spacious SUV. But like it often did, rain and the Walkers kept her firmly inside the two door car she had chosen.

She must have managed to find sleep for a short while, for she was startled when the sound of someone trying to open the door roused her. Sitting up with a loud gasp, her heart was racing as she looked around wildly, filled with immeasurable relief. A smile crossed her face when she saw movement outside the car, but she wasn't scared. Walkers didn't try to open door handles. The group had found her…Rick had, and hoping that it would be his face she saw first, she turned around and reached for the door handle.

A second later her smile vanished, and her heart began beating so fast it hurt. Someone was standing outside the window, but it most definitely wasn't Rick.

With her hand resting on the door handle, Carrie looked at the figure, trying to make out who it was, and when they suddenly crouched down to peer through the window she leapt back in fright. She didn't recognise them, it wasn't anyone from her group. There was a short moment in which she was frozen in fear, an array of awful thoughts rushing through her head. Her instincts told her to run, to get herself out of there straight away. Untangling her legs from the blanket, she clumsily scrambled across the centre console to the passenger seat, and she gave a small moan when she saw someone else on that side too. The second figure tried to door handle, rattling and yanking on it when it didn't immediately open.

Moving back to the centre console, Carrie panicked as her eyes adjusted, realising it was difficult to see because of the headlights from another car. Her heart hammering painfully, she looked around and tried to count the people outside the car that was her sanctuary. Someone was tugging on the trunk door now, trying to get in and cursing in frustration when they couldn't. There was a long pause where no one did anything, Carrie frozen on the centre console as she frantically looked around, waiting for something to happen. She had just enough wits about to her remember that she was completely on her own right now, that there was no one by her side to help her. Trying to get herself together, she took her time to look at each dark silhouette in turn, counting seven of them and noting that they each carried large guns…rifles like the one Rick favoured.

An awful thought came to mind, the notion making her stomach churn as it was slowly filled with dread. A quick glanced told her that these people were all men, and she gave a low cry as this realisation struck her.

 _"The things you did before…you don't have to do them again. You're with us now."_

Rick's words from the other day, while at the time had been comforting, were now coming back to haunt her. Rick wasn't there right now…none of her group were. Completely on her own, and surrounded by seven armed men, Carrie could barely stifle the cry of despair that was building in her chest. She didn't know what they wanted from her, but if it was that, she knew she wasn't going to be able to do it. She'd come too far now to subject herself to having sex with strangers to protect herself.

Just as this thought occurred to her, the man standing by the driver's side window tapped on it intrusively, still crouched down to look in at her. She didn't look up at first, preferring to look at the dashboard instead, but when he knocked again she knew she'd have to. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath before looking to her left.

"Hey, Lady," they said gruffly, peering in at her. "You going to come out?"

* * *

Night approached and then quickly engulfed the city of Franklin, the speed of it serving only to taunt Rick. With the time approaching eight thirty, they'd been searching for Carrie almost three hours now, each hour passing as unsuccessfully as the last. The search, while panicked and poorly coordinated at first, was quickly organised, Rick having a mental map of where everyone was, and where Carrie might be going. While Abraham, Nicholas and Rosita covered the roads directly outside the retirement village, Glenn brought his group straight in, dropping Daryl off by the reception centre and letting him look on foot. They stayed in the gated retirement village until the sun began to set, and knowing that they would struggle finding their way around the winding streets after dark, Rick made the call for them to spread out.

If Carrie was still inside the village, then she was safe enough for now. What concerned him was the thought of her out on the streets on her own, trying to get back to Walmart. Quickly reconvening with the others, they spread out their city map and quickly determined the routes Carrie would have taken if she was still on foot. If she was indeed on foot, with three cars out looking for her, it wouldn't take them long to find her. At least Rick hoped not anyway…they were taking a big risk looking for her at night, and though he hated to ask his group to endanger themselves, there was simply no question about it. It didn't matter who was missing, they would be looked for. As fury seethed in his stomach, Rick forced himself to acknowledge that they'd even look for Nicholas after dark.

"What did he say to you?" he asked Abraham, pulling him aside before they set off again. "Nicholas."

"Same story as before. Carrie opened a door without back up, was taken down by more than they could handle, and she was dead for sure."

"How did he react when we said she wasn't?"

"He just about pissed himself. His remorse looks genuine. Did you see where it went down?"

Rick nodded, clenching his jaw as he looked over at Nicholas. If the group was smart, they'd keep him away from Rick. "Yes, I did."

"And what's the verdict?"

"That Carrie's not stupid enough to do that."

Abraham gave a bitter chuckle. "Hmm…we know someone who is."

"Yes, we do," Rick agreed, desiring the opportunity to throw a well deserved punch at Nicholas. "For now though, let's just find her."

"We've got to put a time limit on this evening," Abraham told him gruffly. "Not only do we have gas and Walkers to consider…all we've got back there guarding our stuff is Beavis."

"Beavis?"

"Yeah. Beavis and Butthead. I think it's fitting."

Agreeing more than he ought to, Rick ushered everyone back into their vehicles, making sure Carl got back into the minivan with him. As he approached the driver's seat, Daryl whistled at him to get his attention. He headed over to the Hyundai where Daryl was rummaging through the packs, looking for something.

"I'm gonna stay on foot," he said gruffly, daring Rick to challenge him. With a nod of satisfaction, he took out Glenn's weatherproof jacket and gratefully put it on. "Better than me stuck in a car."

"You going to be warm enough?" The only response was a nod and a grunt. Adjusting his crossbow over his shoulder, Daryl rummaged through their small supply of back up weapons and took a gun of his choice, filling his pockets with magazines and a spare pocket knife. "Check in all the cars. Look for any that have had the upholstery cut out from the seats. If she can't find something warm, that's what she'll do."

"Got it."

"And look for dead Walkers that have been pulled apart. If she's forced to stay on foot, she might have covered herself in guts to keep them away."

"Got it."

"Watch your ass," Rick warned him, not surprised when Daryl just grunted again before patting him on the stomach as he walked past. Lighting a cigarette, he set off into the darkness without fear, and Rick had to force himself not to worry about him.

That had been two hours ago, and having found no sign of Carrie, Rick knew it was time to head back. Abraham had called for everyone to return to base half an hour ago, and yet Rick delayed a little longer, certain that he was going to find her any minute now. He was completely torn, one part of him assured that she was holed up safely for the night, the other picturing her laying dead in the gutter. But as the rain grew heavier, he knew he had no choice but to return. Continuing the search and endangered Carl enough already, he didn't need to worsen it by driving in heavy rain.

"Ask Daryl where he is right now," Rick instructed Carl. He turned the heater right up, knowing that Daryl would likely be cold, wet and miserable when they picked him up.

Once they had his position, Rick immediately set off towards him, knowing the city's layout a little better now. Trying not to feel like he was abandoning Carrie, he told himself again and again that he was doing the right thing, that looking for her after dark was too irresponsible.

"I see yah," Daryl's voice came over the radio. "Stop there."

Pulling the minivan to a stop, Rick looked around for Daryl, trying to see him through the darkness. Catching a glimpse of a moving shadow, he watched it carefully until he was sure that it was Daryl and then reached his arm back to open the rear door for him. Swearing loudly, Daryl threw himself into the back seat, dropping his crossbow in his haste to get the door closed.

"Cold as a fucking bitch out there," he said loudly, his teeth chattering as he tore off his jacket. "I think my balls have reascended." Dropping his jacket to the floor, he wedged himself between the two front seats so that he could reach the heater, his shaggy wet hair dripping all over Rick and Carl.

"You wanna swap?" Carl asked in concern, directly more vents towards him.

"Nah, let's just haul ass."

"No sign of her?" Rick asked quietly, dreading the answer.

"Nuh," Daryl shook his head, splashing them with more water. "No dead Walkers, no messages…not even any cars that look like they been slept in."

"Shit," Rick muttered.

"She's fine," Daryl said gruffly, finally pulling himself from between the seats and sitting in the back. "She's holed up somewhere, warm and toasty, bored shitless."

"Yeah," Rick agreed, though he knew he was just going through the motions.

Taking the longer route back to their group, Rick continued driving at a slow pace, still hoping that he would find her at any moment, that she would suddenly appear in the middle of the road like she had the very first time he had seen her. God, what he wouldn't give to nearly run her over again. Dwelling on that, he reluctantly pulled into the car park where the others were waiting, unsurprised to see two figures rush out at them carrying umbrellas. While Aaron went to the back seat to help Daryl with his crossbow, Michonne went to the passenger side and helped Carl with his crutches, telling him to be careful on the slippery road.

Killing the engine, Rick put the keys under the sun visor as he too got out, cringing at how blistering cold the wind and rain was. He thought of Carrie yet again, thinking of how she didn't have her jacket. Following the others inside, Rick slowed to a stop as he looked at their cars, feeling like something was different. Ignoring Michonne who called for him, he took out his flashlight and shone it on the red sedan…it had been moved. He was all but certain that it hadn't been parked where it currently was when he dropped Aidan off to keep watch. They had only taken three cars out to go scavenging…had someone moved the sedan for some reason?

"Did anyone move the sedan?" Rick asked Michonne, heading inside to seek refuge from the rain.

"I don't know," she shrugged impatiently. "No sign of her I take it."

Shaking his head, looking around at the others. Everyone was crowded into the staffroom while Tobin served hot food and drinks, a space heater attached to a car battery sitting on the middle of the table. Taking a quick headcount of everyone, it felt strange to acknowledge that all eleven people were there, when really there should have been twelve. With nothing else of significance to do, Rick reluctantly took a seat at the table and ate, knowing better than to pass up the opportunity. Unlike most nights before, there was mostly silence from the group, no one particularly in the mood to joke around or break out a card game to pass the time.

It came as no surprise that the group went out of their way to ensure that Rick did not cross paths with Nicholas, keeping opportunities for arguments and a fist fight to start out to a minimum. Rick not did begrudge them this…in fact, he was grateful. He'd like nothing other than to wrap his hands around that coward's neck, to beat out of him the truth of what had happened…but he couldn't. Instead, he had to play this smart, for there was still something amiss here.

Watching Aidan and Nicholas, Rick tried to gauge the dynamic between the two, knowing they would look out for each other at any cost. Aside from the fact that he was certain Nicholas had lied about exactly what went down, there was the growing certainty that Aidan too was being untruthful about something, though Rick couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was…at least at first.

"You waited here the entire time?" he enquired, looking at Aidan.

Though the group had been silent before, the silence became awkward now, everyone turning to look at the two men. It came as a surprise that Rick's coldness was being direct not at Nicholas, but at Aidan now. Staring him down, Rick waited expectantly for an answer.

"Yeah, of course I did," Aidan replied.

"You didn't leave after I dropped you off?"

"No," he said, beginning to sound a little defensive.

Pausing, Rick considered his answer. "Then why did you move the sedan?"

"The sedan?"

"Yes. Why did you move it?"

The whole room watched on, waiting for Aidan to give his explanation.

"I moved it because I knew we'd be staying in here tonight," he finally explained, looking rather uncomfortable. "It was blocking the line of sight."

Rick didn't immediately answer, instead letting his gaze linger on Aidan, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was going to falter. While his instincts told him that Aidan wasn't being entirely truthful, his rationality told him that he could go making accusations. Suspecting that Aidan had left his post was nothing without being able to prove it, and though he wanted to make the accusation, to see if he managed to get Aidan squirming, Rick chose a different tact.

"Good thinking."

As he suspected, there was a flash of relief in Aidan's eyes, this brief expression telling Rick all he needed to know. Aidan had lied to him…something had made him leave his post here at Walmart. Letting it go for now, Rick focused his attention on going about their normal routine, knowing that despite the situation there were things to be done. Making sure that Carl had enough to eat and drink, he set about helping the others set up for the night, choosing three of the smaller offices in which they would spend the night. Without a fireplace to keep them warm, the smaller offices would be the most comfortable, and so they pushed the desks up against the walls and laid out their bedding.

They soon settled down to sleep, and even though he was warm and comfortable, sleep did not find many of them, Rick in particular. Going through the motions, he lay on the floor with Carl in between he and Glenn, wishing that he could stop worrying about Carrie. If they couldn't find her tomorrow, how long would his group be willing to wait for her? He knew the best option for the sake of the supply run was to keep going, Rick particularly wanting to ensure Carl got home as soon as possible, but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving Carrie behind. He needed to know what happened to her…if she was dead, then there was nothing he could do about that, but he wanted to at least know. She deserved that from him, she deserved his effort to find out.

He didn't know what to do, and his indecision was paralysing. Laying awake, he considered various scenarios, wondering if Abraham would be willing to continue on to Alexandria without him, if Glenn and Michonne would take responsibility of getting Carl back safely. Rick and Daryl could stay as long as they needed, they could look for her together, they could spend a week looking for her if that's what it took. And yet, he knew that wouldn't work…the two of them to cover the whole city? What if Carrie was stuck somewhere, surrounded by Walkers and unable to leave? It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, an exceptionally dangerous haystack. Even if they did get to that stage, he suspected his group wouldn't leave without them…Carl would kick up one hell of a stink.

Two hours passed slowly, and a little after eleven thirty the door to the office opened, and he looked up to see Michonne hovering in the doorway. Knowing what she was there for, he nodded and slowly got up, retrieving his weapons from where he had laid them out on the desk.

"Still raining?" he asked, not bothering to keep his voice low. Glenn and Carl were as wide awake as he was.

"No," she answered, taking off her katana and then removing her shoes. Letting Rick step out of the office, she slid into his sleeping bag and pulled the additional blankets up and over herself. "Still cold though. I left you a blanket by the door."

Thanking her, Rick left without another word. They would be taking three watch shifts that night instead of two, the shorter time periods allowing for more of them who had slept well the following day. Glad to see that someone had boiled a fresh pot of water, Rick made himself a coffee and grabbed the blanket by the door before heading outside. The rain had definitely stopped for now, and the wind too had died down, but it was still particularly cold. He readjusted his jacket and thought about Carrie again, knowing she must be cold without hers. Keeping close watch on his surroundings, he took down a Walker as he crossed the parking lot and headed for the removal truck. Looking up, he was pleased to see it was Daryl who would be on watch with him, and he suspected Daryl had made sure it would be that way.

"Hey," Daryl grunted, hearing Rick's approach with ease.

"Hey," he returned the greeting. Without needing to speak, he tossed the blanket up to Daryl and then sheathed his machete, awkwardly climbing the side ladder while he tried not to drop his coffee. Getting to the top, he scanned the dark highway for any signs of movement, but saw only Walkers. "Nothing?"

"Nothin'."

Having said all they needed to, Rick sat down and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, Daryl already having his own. Sharing the coffee, they sat in silence, both of them knowing what the other was thinking. The longer he waited the worse he felt, knowing all the while that a member of his group was out there alone. It had been the same when Daryl had suddenly reappeared with the news that Beth and Carol were in Atlanta, trapped and hurt by Grady Memorial Hospital. The knowledge that two of their own were alone and scared was difficult to bear, but at least then they had been able to do something about it. They had been able to help.

But with Carrie they were trapped by the darkness, hindered by not knowing exactly where she was. Tapping his middle finger against his thumb, Rick knew what he wanted to be doing right now, where he ought to be…but he couldn't. He couldn't go out and look for her in the middle of the night. It was too dangerous, and could quite possibly endanger Carrie more than help her. And yet still the need to be out there looking for her lingered. It was eleven thirty at night now…how on earth was he going to make it to morning? How was she?

"You alright?" Daryl asked gruffly, looking at Rick sidelong. There was a long pause, Daryl's breath appearing as a cloud of fog in front of him. "You and Carrie…I know yah had somethin' there."

Rick didn't reply, not knowing what to say. The verbal acknowledgement that he and Carrie had something going on together only made the situation more difficult. It added to his obligations, and therefore his remorse. Not only was he her leader, he was her…he didn't quite know what he was to her. Whatever it was they had going on, whether it would stop or keep going…all he knew was that he had a duty to her, that he owed her.

Seeing that Daryl was going to ask if he was alright again, Rick sought to change the subject. "I miss Judith," he muttered. "More than I thought I would."

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement. "She won't forget yah. She didn't after the prison fell."

"I know."

"Reckon she's walking yet?"

Rick managed to crack a smile. "God help us if she is."

They fell into silence again, the quiet only giving Rick more opportunity to think. Thinking selfishly for a moment, he felt cheated by the circumstances. Just as he had something good going for himself, something that was purely his own indulgence, it was taken away so quickly. It was painfully unfair…and even more selfish to even think that way.

"Sorry," Daryl grunted, turning his body away as he lit his cigarette. He was a surprisingly considerate smoker.

"Don't be…" Rick sighed, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. The end of the cigarette burnt red as Daryl inhaled, his lighter snapping as it closed. "In fact…give me one."

Daryl looked around at him, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Wha'?"

"Just…please?"

Hastening to acquiesce, Daryl dug the packet from his pocket and opened it, using his thumb to poke one of them out. Taking it gratefully, Rick anxiously twirled it around in his fingers. Putting it between his lips, he inhaled as Daryl lit it for him, gratefully breathing in the taste he had forgone for so many years. He coughed a little, getting used to it again, but quickly adjusted. Holding his breath a little, Rick closed his eyes as he slowly blew it out of his mouth, feeling the relief he sought. He'd really only smoked because Shane used to, and he had happily given it up when he and Lori started seriously dating…tonight though, he sure as hell deserved it.

"Thought yah didn't smoke. What happened to your high horse?"

"Fell off it."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

There was a short pause, the two of them enjoying the taste of tobacco as their eyes scanned the highway, looking for signs of movement.

"It don' feel right, does it," Daryl commented, squinting at something.

"No, it doesn't."

Neither of them needed to clarify what they were saying.

"We got the whole day tomorrow…we'll find her," he piped up again.

"Yes."

"We, uhh…if we don't though, we gotta put time limit on this search…"

"I know."

"Otherwise we just…we just end up lookin' for Sophia again. You know what I mean?"

"I know."

Fortunately Daryl didn't say any more on the subject. The door to the real estate office opened, quiet footsteps alerting them to someone's approach. Worried that it was Carl, Rick lowered his cigarette as he looked around, but relaxed when he saw it was only Glenn. Already anticipating what he would say, Rick took an extra long draw, holding the taste in his mouth before releasing it. Reaching them, Glenn put his hands in his pockets as he leant against the delivery van, looking up at them.

"I didn't know you smoked," Glenn said with a frown, echoing Daryl's remarks.

"I don't. I'm not."

"My mistake."

There was an awkward silence, broken only by Daryl raised his crossbow and taking down a nearby Walker. "You coming up?" he grunted at Glenn, gesturing to the Walker.

"No thanks. I got enough problems without second hand smoking."

Daryl snorted derisively. "Fucking end o' the world, and you're worried about cancer and shit?"

"Like I said, I've got enough problems," Glenn shrugged nonchalantly. "Besides….I've heard smoking contributes to erectile dysfunction."

Pausing as he inhaled, Rick sighed. He took one last comforting draw from the cigarette and then flicked it to the ground. "Thanks for ruining my first cigarette in nearly twenty years."

"You're welcome."

Silence fell yet again, the three of them sitting there looking at each other, but not knowing what to say. He hoped Glenn would start, for surely he had come out here with something to say.

"Could have avoided this whole thing if they'd just gone back to look for her," Glenn muttered, frowning as Daryl began coughing. "That's smoker's cough."

"It's fucking cold, alright?" Daryl said defensively. His eyes narrowed, he took out his cigarettes and lit another one, glaring at Glenn defiantly.

Looking back out onto the street, Rick listened as Glenn and Daryl talked quietly, voicing the thoughts that had been running through his head for the last few hours. They too were disgusted by what Nicholas had done…not only how cowardice in leaving Carrie behind, but the blatant lie he told about who was responsible for what had happened. Mistakes could be forgiven, even the stupidest of them, but liars were a little more difficult for Rick to look past. In an unusual change from his normal character, Glenn seemed angrier than normal, even despite all that had happened that day. He was normally so even tempered…it was obvious Nicholas' cowardice had rattled him.

"I know you're making an effort," Rick began, speaking to Glenn when there was a lull in conversation. "I know you're trying to make good with the Alexandrians…but when we get back, I don't want you going on supply runs with Aidan and Nicholas."

There was a long pause, and Rick was content to let Glenn digest this for a few moments. There was the unspoken understanding that as their leader, if Rick asked them to do something, they generally did it. His motivation was only ever their best interests, and with a few exceptions his instincts about things were generally right.

"It's not that simple, Rick," Glenn finally replied, warming his hands in his pockets as he looked up at him.

"It is to me."

"Because you're not looking at the bigger picture. I have to work with them…I need to teach them."

Rick just shook his head, disagreeing. "They'll get you killed," he said bluntly. "One day you just won't come back with them, and we'll never know what really happened to you. We're the ones who will have to live that, not you."

"Then why did you let them come?" he asked.

"That was a mistake. One I won't be making again."

Daryl grunted, agreeing. "I thought it was gonna be Carl we'd have to baby sit, not them."

There was a lull in conversation, and as it passed Rick watched Glenn out of the corner of his eye. Much of what Rick said was acted upon…but at the end of the day, Glenn was capable of making his own decisions, even if they went against Rick's wishes.

"I'll think about it," Glenn said, meeting him halfway.

"You know I'm right."

"I said, I'll think about it," Glenn snapped impatiently.

Silence fell, the three of them knowing they were each at their wits end. Regretting that he had thrown the cigarette away, Rick clenched his hands into fists, wishing he could do something about the situation. The thought of maybe taking a quick drive down the main highways had only just occurred to him when he heard a too familiar sound, one that made the hairs on the back his neck stand up. Sharp popping noises broke through the silent night, five in total echoing around the city. Hearing it too, Daryl and Glenn tensed in fear as they looked up, their eyes flicking around as they instinctually tried to gauge their direction.

"Shit," Rick muttered, his heart racing as he mentally braced himself.

There was a brief reprieve of silence, but more gunshots came a few moments later, three more…and then two in quick succession. He felt sick, knowing that it must be Carrie. She wasn't safe, she wasn't holed up somewhere waiting until morning…she was on foot for some reason. As this startling realisation came over him, Rick pushed the blanket off his shoulders and climbed down from the cabin, certain of the on the spot decision he had just made.

"I'm going to look for her," Rick said decisively, looking between Glenn and Daryl. He knew what they were thinking, and he knew he didn't have to ask, yet he did anyway. "You with me?"

Daryl nodded, swinging his crossbow over his shoulder. "Fuck yeah. Let's go.

Shaking his head to himself, Glenn too gave his answer. "I can't put it as eloquently as Daryl, but yeah. I'm in."

"If she's on foot," Rick began, leading them back inside the real estate office. "Something has forced her to make a run for it."

"At least we know she's still out there."

"Yes," he agreed, though it wasn't much comfort given the predicament she must currently be facing.

Going from room to room, they awoke the others, knowing that they'd be willing to help. As soon as they heard what was going on, everyone got straight to their feet and redressed, hastily gathering everything they would need. Abraham quickly spread out the city map on a conference table, he and Rick having a hurried conversation.

"It sounded like it was coming from the east," Rick thought out loud, indicating the area on the map.

"That's the business district…I would have thought she'd go for the suburbs."

"She could be anywhere. She's probably moving about a lot, especially if she's running from something," he muttered, his stomach clenching when Glenn reported hearing more gunshots outside. "We'll need to start wide, and then move in on these areas here."

"I'll coordinate you all from here," Abraham suggested. "We'll need at least three groups."

Getting straight to the point, Rick didn't waste time putting it nicely. "I don't want Nicholas or Aidan out there. They're liabilities."

"Yes," he agreed, taking out a pen and some sheets of paper. "I'll put them on watch. Carl?"

"I'd rather he stay too, it's dangerous out there."

"I'll glue him to my ass," Abraham promised, clapping Rick on the shoulder when he departed.

Letting Abraham give the instructions and form the groups, Rick pulled Carl aside and spoke to him quietly, wanting to be sure he was very clear about what was going on.

"Stick with Abraham," he requested. "Don't leave his side."

"I won't."

"As for Aidan and Nicholas, if things go wrong, if something happens…don't put your life in their hands. Stay with Abraham."

"I get it," Carl assured him. "Don't worry about us here. Just find Carrie and get back."

Thanking him, Rick gave him a quick hug before ensuring that he had everything he needed, that he wore his new duty belt and that the pouches were stocked with spare ammunition. Trusting Carl to do as he was told, Rick followed the others as they headed outside, the groups heading towards individual cars and checking they had sufficient gas. While Michonne and Rosita headed for the sedan, Aaron and Tobin took the minivan, Glenn and Daryl were waving him over to the Hyundai. As the sound of more gunshots echoed, Rick hastened over to them and jumped into the driver's seat.

"Radio check," he said as he started the engine.

"We're good," said Rosita.

"Us too," Tobin added.

"Everyone's armed? Everyone has a map?"

Getting confirmation from the other two cars, he let Abraham take over and then began following his lead. Despite the sudden turn of events, and the immediate danger that Carrie must be in, a small bout of peace began to wash over him. No longer forced to sit on his hands, he was glad to be back out on the road, proactively doing something to try and help her. She had her gun, she was using it to protect herself…as for everything else, he had to trust that she knew what she was doing.


	39. Chapter 39

"Hey, Lady," the man said gruffly, peering in at her. "You going to come out?"

Feeling paralysed by fear, Carrie kept her head bowed while her eyes flicked around, waiting for a solution to materialise. The group of men who had surrounded her were slowly moving in closer, trapping her inside the car that for now was her only refuge…if they wanted to hurt her, then there was nothing she could do to stop them. This realisation drew a sob form deep within her throat, one which she hastened to stifle before they saw it. The less fear she showed the better, and with that in mind she slowly released the breath she was holding, trying to think. The only person who was going to get her out of this situation was herself…no one else could help her right now.

"I can see you're hurt," the man at the driver's window called out, gesturing to her head. "What happened?"

Finally acting, Carrie looked up and clearly shouted, "Go away!"

"You're hurt," he repeated impatiently, shining a flashlight through the window as he peered in. "Why don't you let us help you?"

"Didn't you hear me?" she shouted again, wishing her voice sounded a little more confident. "I don't want your help. Go away!"

The man appeared to sigh, his eyes closing for a moment as though he was praying for patience. "Come on, Lady," he grumbled, lowering the flashlight. "It's nearly midnight, it's been a fucking long day. You with them?"

This question made her heart falter…did these people know about Rick and the others? "With who?"

"The group that cleared out Walmart. You got separated from them, right?"

A heavy weight settling into her stomach, Carrie didn't say anything to this, realising that these people had been watching her group that day. Looking around, she watched the others that surrounded the car. If they were trying to intimidate her, it was definitely working. On instinct her eyes were drawn to their weapons once again, assessing the large rifles they carried and the glint of knives and machetes on their hips.

"You're Carrie, right?" Alarmed that this man knew her name, she spun back around to him, looking at him fearfully. "We could hear your group on the radios," he explained. "They've been looking for you all afternoon, but they had to stop. It got too dark, the rain too heavy."

"Thanks for the update," she shouted through the window. "Now get lost."

The man sighed again. "Look, La-"

"I'm serious, fuck off!"

"We know where they are. I'm offering to take you back to them," he continued, ignoring her. "All we want is a little reward for our efforts."

Carrie's blood ran cold at this, an icy shiver drenching her in fear as she figured out what he meant. "No."

"You don't want to go back to them?"

"No, you're not getting anything from me!" she shouted, starting to panic. She was completely surrounded by seven armed men…if they wanted to take advantage of her, she wouldn't be able to stop them. "You're not touching me!"

"What?" he frowned, looking at her in confusion. "No, I'm talking about-"

"Let me go!" she screamed at him. "Now!"

"Are you crazy? I'm offering to take you back!"

Panicked, Carrie reached for her gun and removed it from the holster. The moment they saw this the men reacted instantly, but not in the way she expected them to. All except for the man at the window backed away, lowering their weapons too. Raising his eyebrows, the man at the window seemed to shake his head in exasperation.

"Look, you don't have to do that."

"I told you to let me go!" she shouted through the window, raising the gun and pointing it at him. Her finger was poised on the trigger, ready to shoot him through the window. "Now let me go."

"We'll take you back to your people."

"I said no!"

There was a long pause now, the man's jaw flexing as he thought. Finally he stood upright and gestured to the others, instructing them all to back off even more. Watching them move, Carrie didn't allow herself to feel relief, for she wasn't out of danger yet. She looked at them all mistrustfully, fearing that their apparent surrender was merely a trap, that if she tried to make a run for it they'd move in. But there wasn't anything else she could do, and with that in mind she began shuffling across to the passenger side, seeing that there was a wide gap through which she could run. Wasting no more time, she clutched the radio in one hand and her gun in the other, cautiously lifting the lock and then opening the door a fraction.

She waited apprehensively, ready to pull the door shut and lock it again, but nothing happened. The shadows that were the men did not move, and before she could think too much about it, she threw the door open and made a run for it. The cold night air stung at her face and lungs, the wind biting her cheeks as she raced past them, bracing herself for their attack. They did nothing, but she didn't stop, her feet pounding the pavement as she ran straight into the darkness. Somehow she made it three blocks before her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, and taking a risk she turned right down another street, hoping to evade the them just in case they were trying to follow her. But to her horror the street was full of Walkers now, though her arrival was so sudden that they didn't have time to react. She shoved them aside and kept sprinting, going as fast and as hard as she could. But no matter how well lit by the moon, the night still made it difficult for her, and she quickly became disoriented, soon losing track of where she was.

Completely at a loss for what to do she slowed down to a stop, turning around and looking behind her. She listened for any sign that she was being pursued, for beams of light that came from their flashlights or car. All she saw and heard were Walkers, dozens of them heading towards her from all directions. Knowing better than to let herself be surrounded, she started off again, heading in the direction her gut told her to. The jacket she had found afforded her valuable protection against scratches, and so she turned the collar up to protect her neck, keeping her head low every time she had to shove past Walkers. Despite the rush of adrenaline, she felt herself growing tired again, her body protesting it's lack of food and water. The cut on her scalp was stinging again, the steady throb of her headache making her dizzy.

With a long groan, she slowed to a stop as soon as she found somewhere free of Walkers. Gasping for breath she bent over double, feeling as though she was about to be sick. She cried tears of frustration, horribly aware of just how close she might have come to being attacked by people for a fourth time. However, she had little time to despair. Walkers were already filling the street again, having begun following her while forming a cluster. Reaching for her machete, Carrie's heart plummeted.

It was gone…and so was her knife and flashlight.

Silently screaming in frustration, she remembered taking them off in the car. They had been too uncomfortable in the small space, the hilt digging in to her hip no matter how she positioned them. Despite knowing that the sound would only attract more of them, Carrie knew she would have to depend on her gun, even though the sound wasn't going to help her remain inconspicuous. Holding it firmly, she started running again, wanting to avoid using it for as long as possible. But it was no use. Walkers were converging on her from both directions, and in the darkness she could only see the shadows and silhouettes of the predators approaching her.

She had to run, knowing she couldn't fight off a cluster coming at her from both directions by herself. Even if she had riot gear protecting her and endless ammunition, they would just keep coming, attracted by the sound of the gunfire. Thinking strategically, she took her time to look in each direction, choosing the road where visibility was greatest. Though the Walkers would be able to see her shadow moving, she only had to go far enough to confuse them…once they lost track of her whereabouts, she'd be able to lay low. There were three Walkers down this road, and she'd have to take them out if she wanted to prevent them following her. Glancing behind herself, she started forward with a deep breath, gripping her gun just like Rick had taught her to before raising it. She flicked off the safety, and praying that she didn't make her situation worse, she took a calculated risk and began firing. Taking out the Walkers, she made a run for it down the road, taking down two more a few blocks later. Given the darkness and her panic, her shots were clumsy at best, using more rounds than necessary to get the head shots she needed.

Hearing the familiar sounds that indicated there were more close by, she told herself to keep going. All she had to do was keep moving, to not let herself get surrounded by more than she could handle. Conserving her rounds as much as possible, she jogged two more streets before finding a wide open space. Taking the opportunity when she saw it, she broke into a sprint, the sound of her boots on the pavement fading when she found a grassed area. It was a park of some kind, and with trees giving extensive coverage it was even darker here, shapes looming up at her with only just enough time to dodge them. Long grass whipped around her knees, hiding corpses and various other obstacles that she tripped over with alarming frequency.

Growing frustrated with herself, she broke into an even faster run when the ground beneath her feet changed from grass back to pavement. The clear expanse of nothing in front of her lulled her into the false security that she was back on a road, and with nothing in mind other than finding a car to hide beneath she felt a whoop of relief. It was short lived however, a violent blow to her lower left leg sending white hot pain up her leg. She fell forward without grace, her arms outstretched to break her fall, but the shout of pain never left her throat. Before she could even think about what was happening, she plunged straight into cold water, the frigid temperature enveloping her body and seizing all conscious thought.

Instinct took over, and she found herself scrambling to push her head up and out of the water, feeling it cascading down her face as she gasped for air. Coughing and spluttering, she shook her head as she tried to get up, but the icy water seemed to suck her back down, thwarting her struggles. Fighting it, her lungs heaved for breath as she successfully got herself onto all fours, spending a few moments focusing on breathing. Numb with cold, she froze in that position and concentrated on the feeling of air entering and leaving her body, coughing as she tried to clear her lungs. Slowly, she found her wits and mentally caught up to what had happened.

Feeling the shape of small square tiles beneath her palms, she looked up at a large shadow beside her, slowly deducing that she had run straight into a large water feature. Part of her still in the midst of flight, she started to get up, but sharp pain in her lower leg stopped her the moment she tried to bear weight. Gritting her teeth, she internalised the groan of pain that built inside her chest, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. Moving in a different direction, she sat down in the water and slowly brought her leg around in front of her, shuddering as she did so. Her fingers trembled as she lowered her hand and tentatively touched the injury, briefly wondering if she'd broken a bone.

The pain flared, but it was bearable for now. But rather than get up, she took a different tact. Despite the cold water, she stayed where she was for a few moments, looking around as she pushed her soaking wet hair off her face. She could hardly see a thing, and so she closed her eyes and listened instead, making use of all her senses. There was nothing to be heard, indicating that despite her situation, she'd successfully evaded the Walkers. Having run far enough, she'd confused them and bought herself some time. Her mind catching up, she felt the holster around her leg, breathing a sigh of relief to feel her gun still secured there. Waterlogged or not, it would work.

The most pressing issue was her radio, something she needed desperately. When she'd fallen it had gone flying from her hands, and she took a moment to orient herself before searching for it. Allowing her injured leg to float, she shuffled through the frigid and filthy water, not wanting to know what it was that she could feel floating around with her. By the grace of God, despite her devout atheism, she found the radio less than a minute later. Her hands were numb and wet as she fumbled with it, successfully removing the battery, the only part that was useful to her. Tossing the radio itself aside, she put the battery between her teeth and then slowly shuffled over to the edge of the fountain. She hissed in pain as she pulled herself out of the water and then lowered back onto the ground. Feeling pretty sorry for herself, she laid down with her back against the wall of the shallow pool, shivering a little. Though she was soaking wet, for now she was safe, and she had to let herself recover.

With her eyes closed, she listened to her environment while talking herself through her next move. All she had to do was find somewhere safe for the night. At best she should find a Police Car…while her radio had broken in the scuffle with Walkers that afternoon, the battery she had would still be working. All she needed was a radio to fit it, and she'd be able to call out to the others. The most important thing she needed to do was to not panic…she knew she was being pursued by not only Walkers, but also people. Though she hadn't had the time to ask them who they were, there was little doubt in her mind that these were the supply run group from Ohio. They knew from the map she and Rick had taken from Granger's group that there would be supply runners working in this area, that they might have ventured down to Franklin. Judging by the way the town had already been cleared, they had presumed the group had already been and gone, deeming Walmart too difficult for them to take on.

All but certain that it was them, Carrie was confident that she had done the right thing in making a run for it. While they'd offered to take her back to her group, this favour would have come at a cost. Whether this cost would be one she'd have to pay personally, or whether it would be paid in supplies, she didn't want to know. She had made her escape from them, and she'd evaded the Walkers…thinking strategically like she had been earlier, she knew her only task now was to find safety. No more running, no more panicked gunfire…safety.

Opening her eyes, she let them adjust for a minute before she slowly sat up, moving cautiously. Her body was numb with cold, water still dripping from her soaking wet clothing. Despite this, perhaps the cold was helping, for the pain in her leg seemed to have eased a little, and she slowly got back to her feet and managed to bear weight on it. Upright, she looked around as she slowly withdrew her Ruger from it's holster. Remembering what she had learnt, she kept the muzzle pointed well away from her, uncomfortably aware that she was fumbling in the darkness. Checking that the safety was secured, she removed the magazine and let water drip from the inside.

Holstering it again, she slowly started walking, her boots squelching with every step. The sound was loud, perhaps even louder given the absolute silence of the night, and so taking a calculated risk she paused long enough to remove them. Carrying them by the shoe laces, she hobbled in her wet socks across another grassed area before finding the road again. Her progress was slow but steady as she made her way down the street, her leg aching while the rest of her shivered from the cold. Not unlike the Walkers she fled from, she began wandering the streets, and although there were plenty of cars in which she could take refuge, she pushed herself to keep going while she still had the strength. The battery in her hand encouraged her to push on, her best chance at letting the others know that she was alright. Her endurance paid off, for a few blocks later she passed a car whose multiple aerials caught her attention.

Heading down the street, she moved slowly, cautious of the Walker that wandered the opposite pavement. Reaching the car in question, it was difficult to see what was on the side, but the aerials and rectangular shares on the roof clearly indicated that it was exactly what she needed, a Police car. Despite her relief at finding it, she stood stock still in the middle of the street and waited a little longer. Shivering, she slowly turned her head and kept track of the Walker on the opposite pavement, waiting until it moved around the corner before she acted. She tapped on the window and then waited, giving silent thanks when there was no sound from inside.

Opening the door, she sank down into the driver's seat and breathed a sigh of relief, quietly closing the door behind her. Though she wanted to rest, she didn't allow herself the luxury. Putting her boots aside, she began blindly feeling around, mindful of not accidentally blowing the horn. Letting her fingers glide over the interior, one that felt new and modern, she felt the unmistakable shape of a Coca-Cola bottle. She moved it into her lap but was reluctant to drink it, knowing the sugar would only make her even more thirsty. Searching on the passenger seat, she wrapped her hands around another bottle and lifted it up to see. There wasn't much she could tell about it in the darkness, but when she opened the cap and smelt it she breathed another sigh of relief. It was water.

She took a long, delicious drink to quench her thirst, the liquid pooling in her stomach. Satisfied enough, she took another mouthful before safely putting the bottle into the console where she would find it, tossing aside the Coca-Cola. Returning to her former search, she let her hands continue to wander, leaning her body over into the passenger seat before slowly climbing into the back. Hampered by her injured leg and sopping wet clothes, her climb into the back was more difficult than it should have been, and when she slumped down onto the seat she allowed herself a moment of reprieve before getting to work.

She sorted through what felt like paperwork before her fingers brushed over a handle of some kind, and further investigations determined it was a duffle bag. Dragging it up onto the seat beside her, she fumbled for the zipper and then opened it, impatiently rifling through it. There was nothing that felt like a radio inside, and she roughly shoved her hands right to the bottom, still unable to find what she needed the most. She growled under her breath, feeling angry tears springing up in her eyes again. Raising her uninjured leg she kicked the back of the passenger seat, trying to release her anger silently, and failing. Her temper tantrum concluded, Carrie forced herself to calm down. Furious with her emotional response to the situation, she refocused and turned her attention to something that should have brought her comfort the moment she found it. Sorting through the duffle bag, she pulled out what felt like a set of clothing and carefully scrutinised the fabric. Holding it up to the window, she used what little moonlight there was to determine that it was a pair of sweat pants. Frankly she didn't care what they were.

She looked out through all of the windows, feeling particularly vulnerable as she stripped her wet clothing off. Peeling the wet denim off her legs, she ditched her underwear too before hastily pulling on the sweat pants from the duffle bag, slipping the radio battery into the pocket. Looking through the duffle again, she found a pair of sneakers with some old socks stuffed inside, and though they stank worse than the water from the fountain, she pulled them onto her feet. Frankly, this wasn't the worst she had ever worn, and the smell was more than worth it the moment she slipped the sneakers on, fastening the laces tightly. Taking off her jacket, she hung it over the back of the driver's seat before peeling off her shirt, shivering as she wrung out as much water as she could. Hanging it up too, she quickly organised her things, stuffing her gun and holster into the pocket of her jacket. Leaving her wet bra on, she rifled through the duffle bag again and found a tee shirt, gratefully pulling it on last.

Completely redressed, she slowly climbed back into the front seat and began feeling around for the trunk lever. Skimming her fingers around the side of the seats she felt another jolt of frustration, unable to find the it. She found a few buttons that would move the electronic seats forward and back, but there was no sign of anything that would open the trunk, or even the gas cap. Scared and stressed, her emotions were all over the place, and the minor hurdle immediately infuriated her.

Seething, she threw open the door and stepped out, forgetting to check for Walkers. There was one a few yards away now, her sudden movement capturing it's attention, but for now it wasn't a threat. Crouching down on the asphalt, she refocused and kept running her hands around the base of the seat, reaching underneath the front for the lever…surely it would be there…where else could it possibly be? Pausing, she took a deep breath and counted to five, trying to keep her attention together despite the emotions that made her want to start screaming and kicking something again. She was better than this…she rarely became an emotional wreck in situations like this. Survival was about thinking, about strategy…getting upset had never helped her, and yet tonight her emotions were threatening to compromise her.

The Walker was close now, forcing Carrie to stand up and face it. Taking it's hands before they could reach for her, she shoved it hard and knocked it over. Knowing she couldn't risk firing her gun again, she reluctantly got back in the car, slamming the door for extra measure. Trying to ignore the Walker's snarls and the way it's hands thudded against the driver's window, she climbed into the backseat again, bumping her head on the ceiling in the process. The cut on her scalp reopened, fresh blood seeping over the crusty blood that had matted her hair together. Ignoring it, she ran her hands over the back of the seat, feeling for the groove that she prayed was in the middle. With a grunt of satisfaction she found it, managing to pull the rear of the seat down to access the inside of the trunk. No foul smell greeted her upon opening it, and so she was confident there were no corpses locked inside, animated or not.

Reaching into the trunk, she patted her hands around, growing hopeful when she felt the array of equipment there in the back. It was mainly clothing and what felt like a bulletproof vest, but her hands passed over a flashlight that didn't work and a few folders of more paperwork. A few moments later her hands brushed over a backpack, and she readjusted her position to reach further in. Though the hole was small, Carrie managed to squeeze her shoulder and head though into the trunk, the contortion of her spine painfully uncomfortable. But for the first time since Rick picked her up, she was grateful she had lost weight.

The backpack was stuck on something, but she managed to wrench it free and pull it through into the back seat. Still ignoring the Walker outside that snarled in interest, Carrie clumsily fumbled with the zip and opened the backpack. Plunging her hand inside, she gave a cry of satisfaction as she found exactly what she was looking for. The police radio was exactly like the one she had been carrying up until recently, and though it had been deadweight all afternoon, she was grateful she had put up with it. Sitting on the back seat, she tested the radio just in case it still worked by some miracle, but as she expected it was dead.

Acting with care lest she drop anything important, she removed the dead battery and tossed it aside, retrieving the one she had taken from her broken radio. Taking the time to properly dry it off, she tried to install it into the slot, holding it up to the moonlight until she finally got it right. Closing the back cover, she ran her hands over the dials and tried to remember where the power button was. Locating it, she kept her eyes closed for a few more moments, sending a prayer to a God she didn't believe in. Pressing the button, she cautiously opened her eyes.

The green light was on.

* * *

Slowly making their way down the pitch black streets of Franklin, Rick gripped the steering wheel as he looked around for any sign of Carrie, cursing the night that taunted him. To minimise their attractiveness to Walkers, they were only able to keep their headlights low, making it dangerously difficult to see. Shadows jumped out at him as he drove, getting his hopes up each time he thought it was Carrie, his heart sinking every time he realised it wasn't.

Half an hour had passed since they had heard the gunfire, and since then it had been only silence. He wasn't sure whether or not he should be relieved that there were no more shots. The silence could mean that she was safe now, that she didn't need to defend herself at present, but it could also mean that she was dead. A range of scenarios had been running through his head all afternoon and evening, and they grew worse now…the last shot they had heard could have been for herself. She could have been cornered somewhere, and though she tried to save herself, perhaps there'd been no other way out for her.

"You want me to drive?" Daryl grunted softly, looking at Rick from the corner of his eye.

"No," he answered shortly. "You're better off there."

It wasn't an excuse…Daryl was indeed better off in the front passenger seat. While Glenn kept track of their progress on the map from the back seat, Daryl was in the passenger seat with his eyes peeled. His experience hunting meant that he seemed to notice things others didn't, somehow picking up what others missed. While he kept his eyes focused on the dark night outside the car, he raised the radio and checked in with the others, his attention never wavering.

While the others responded with nothing to report, Rick looked into the rear view mirror, just able to make out Glenn's face. He too was looking around, his expression weary and defeated. While others might mistake his weariness for the temptation to give up the search, for a lack of faith, Rick knew otherwise. Just like he, Glenn would search for Carrie for as long as it took, particularly given that she had recently started firing her gun. But it was clear that Glenn was quickly reaching the end of his tether, that his spirit had taken quite the beating today. He'd spent so long certain that there was hope Aidan and Nicholas, that he would be able to teach them, but this hope was fading fast. They were more than cowards…they were liars. Nicholas had lied about what happened to Carrie, and while Rick wasn't yet sure why Aidan had really moved the red sedan earlier, he knew he was lying about that too. Their character flaws were coming at a cost to Glenn, who despite his everything still looked for the good in people. Dwelling on their situation, Rick wondered how much more Glenn's spirit would be able to handle.

"H-hello?" a voice suddenly came across the radio. "Can anyone hear me? Rick? Michonne?"

Rick slammed on the brakes without thinking, his heart leaping at the sound of Carrie's voice. The radio slipped out of Daryl's hands as he lurched forward against the dashboard, and a flurry of relieved voices erupted. Rosita and Tobin urgently replied to Carrie, talking over one another while Daryl fumbled to find the radio down by his feet. Grabbing it, he sat up with a flourish and got straight to the point.

"How 'bout y'all shut up for a minute!" he shouted impatiently, his voice echoing in the car.

There was immediate silence, giving Rick a moment to catch his breath. His heart was racing so hard it almost hurt, and he looked at the radio while Glenn leaned in from the back, he too waiting with bated breath.

"Fuckin' hell, Blondie," Daryl growled, breathing an audible sigh of relief. "It's good to hear your voice. You alright?"

There was a pregnant pause as they waited for her to answer, and to say that Rick was nervous would be an understatement. There would be no more worrying about whether or not she had been bitten or scratched. They would know now, there would be no more wondering.

"I'm not hurt."

The three of them relaxed incrementally, Rick releasing the breath he had been holding. That was all he needed to hear…she wasn't hurt, she wasn't bit. She was still lost, but she was back in contact with them…there was hope again.

"Where are yah?"

"In a police car," she replied. Her voice was strained, making her sound as if she was barely holding herself together.

"A police car where?"

"I don't know…"

There was a long pause, Rick, Daryl and Glenn all looking at each other.

"I haven't seen a police car all night," Glenn muttered.

"Alrigh', sit tight," Daryl said, trying to reassure her. "Has anyone seen a cop car tonight?"

"No," came Rosita's voice.

"Aaron and I saw one on the highway," Tobin spoke up. "What type of car is it, Carrie?"

"I don't know. It's a car?"

Daryl sighed impatiently. "Sedan? Hatchback? Four wheel drive?"

"Sedan…it's kind of new."

There was a short pause, Rick praying that it was the one Aaron and Tobin had seen.

"Sorry Carrie…the one we saw was a van."

Silence engulfed the car once again, and though they were reassured that she was safe for now, they were really no further than they were before. Rick turned off the car's headlights and switched on the interior light instead, looking into the back where Glenn had the map spread out. "Daryl…keep talking to her. Reassure her, tell her it's going to be alright."

"You fuckin' tell her if you're gonna lie."

"It's not a lie," he said vehemently, scanning the map. "Ask her if she can see any street signs."

Daryl asked the question, Carrie replying a moment later. "No, I can't. Should I-"

"Stay in the car," Daryl instructed, anticipating her question. "You're safe there, so just stay. We're all lookin' for yah…it's gon' be fine."

"No," she said vehemently, taking Rick by surprise. "You guys need to go back."

"Why's that?" Daryl scoffed.

"There are people out here, they tried to make me go with them."

Rick looked back at Daryl, his stomach sinking. "What did she say?"

"Say that again," Daryl requested.

"There are people out here," she repeated. "They can hear us over the radios. You guys need to call it a night and go back."

There was a long moment in which their whole group took in the realisation that they were not alone in this city, that they had likely run across the very people they had hoped to avoid. They knew the supply runner groups from Ohio might be operating in this area, but they had hoped to avoid running across them.

"Shit," Rick muttered, a horrible sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. "Daryl, keep her talking. Find out more."

"How many people, Carrie?"

"I don't know…at least half a dozen, maybe more. They all had guns too."

"What about cars?"

"At least one that I could see."

"And what did they want?"

There was another short pause before she answered. "They said they'd bring me back to you, but I…I made them let me go."

Thinking of Carrie, alone and vulnerable right now, Rick suspected these people didn't offer their help out of the goodness of their hearts. If they weren't intending to take advantage of her, at the very least they'd hold her hostage. They must have seen them clearing out Walmart…they must have known one of their group members had been separated from them.

"Good, you did the right thing. Abraham?" Daryl asked. "Did you hear all that?"

"Got it," he replied gruffly. "We're ready for anything. As for the rest of you, do not state your position over the radios."

"You guys should call it a night," Carrie told them again. "I'm okay…I'll be alright until morning.

Looking between Daryl and Glenn, Rick tried to gauge what they were thinking. It had been risky enough coming out there in the middle of the night to look for her in the first place, but the stakes just kept getting higher. This unexpected group, possibly the same type of people as Granger, were also trawling the city looking for Carrie. If they found her first, things could go very wrong, for her especially. Coming to his decision, and knowing it would be supported, Rick looked at Daryl and shook his head.

"Rick said just sit tight," Daryl told her again. "Wait for us."

"It's not safe," she insisted, her voice louder now. "You guys need to go back."

Daryl growled under his breath, thrusting the radio at Rick. "Pull her into line."

Again, Rick shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak to them, let alone to speak to her. He didn't think he could take it, that he could keep it together. Instead he put the car back into gear and started off again, blindly continuing the search.

Growling again, Daryl raised the radio to his lips. "Just fuckin' do as you're told."

"He's right, Carrie," Rosita chimed in supportively. "Let us come and find you."

As Carrie continued arguing, Rick knew they had to cut her off, to change the subject. "Keep her talking," he told Daryl impatiently. "Ask her who was shooting earlier."

"Was that you shooting before? About half an hour ago?"

"Yes. Only at Walkers, not at the other group."

"Wha' about yah knife?"

"I lost it…left it behind when I ran for it."

Daryl snorted at this, rolling his eyes. "Not your finest moment, I'm sure."

"No."

There was an awkward lapse in their conversation, Daryl looking at Rick expectantly. "Well, now what?" he asked him.

"Just keep her talking."

"About what? The fuckin' weather?"

"I don't give a shit!" he replied angrily, swerving around an obstacle. "Just talk to her! The longer she sits there in silence, the more likely she is to make a run for it! Keep her busy."

Sighing, Daryl raised the radio again. "So…how's the weather?"

Carrie didn't answer this, not that Rick could blame her. "Are you guys really still searching for me?"

"Yeah."

There was another long pause, Rick about ready to blow a gasket if Daryl didn't keep talking. Just as he was about to snap at him again, Carrie spoke up, telling Rick what he didn't want to hear.

"I'm going to look for a street sign."

Panicking, Rick slammed on the brakes and brought the car skidding to a stop. He impatiently snatched the radio out of Daryl's hands. "Carrie, stay in the car!"

"I'll be quick." Her answer was hasty and breathless, and Rick just managed to hear the sound of a car door slamming closed before the line went dead again.

"Don't be stupid, get back in the car, now." He waited for her reply, but none came. "Carrie!"

He clenched his jaw, holding himself back from the tirade he wanted to unleash. Why couldn't she just listen to them? Hadn't they talked about this only days ago, that she could trust him even when things looked bad? He pictured her running down a dark street, managing to dodge the Walkers until one finally took her down. All it would take was one bite…one little scratch to seal her fate. He repeated his instructions to her, his heart sinking the longer it took for her to reply. A minute or so passed, the silence only serving to worsen the fear that had reignited. He knew she was alright, but for how long? She shouldn't be on foot…she was only endangering herself by trying to help them find her.

"I can't see the street names," she panted down the radio, her breathing sounding strained. "It's…it's too dark."

"Then get back in the police car."

"No…..it's three blocks back. I'll keep looking."

Swearing loudly, Rick threw his door open and stepped outside, clenching his hand in his hair. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, hearing Glenn and Daryl getting out of the car too. As they spread the map out on the hood of the car Tobin and Rosita started repeating Rick's instructions, trying to convince Carrie to go back to the police car, to find safety. Imagining the noise of the radio attracting Walkers to her, he quickly told them all to shut up. Silence fell once again, giving him a few moments to reevaluate the situation.

She was back on foot, running in complete darkness as she tried to find a street sign she probably wouldn't be able to read. He had to work with the situation presented, and he tried to think strategically…all he needed was her location. If this other group could over hear their radio communications, then so be it. It was a risk they had to take.

"Carrie," he began slowly, working to keep his voice calm and measured. "Hold down the button on the radio. I want to hear everything, okay?"

"Okay," she replied a few moments later. Doing as she was told, she held down the button as she ran, effectively providing Rick a blow by blow account of what was happening. He could hear the sound of her footsteps on the pavement, her heavy breathing punctuated only by the occasional snarl or grunt from the Walkers she must be running past.

"Don't worry about the street names," he instructed her. "Are you in a suburban street, or a business district?"

"Business…there're shops all 'round me."

"What are the buildings like? Are they tall, or single story?"

"Single…no, I mean double…" she trailed off, panting for breath. "But they're not tall."

Consulting the map with Daryl and Glenn, Rick pointed out a few of the business districts they had driven through, glad he had a reasonable understanding of the town's layout after scavenging that afternoon.

"Have you seen a park? Maybe one with a fountain?"

"Yes," she answered, the line suddenly going silent.

They waited with bated breath, Rick not daring to speak through the radio lest he give away her position to Walkers. He waited and waited, increasingly worried with every passing moment. Just as he was about to radio her again she returned to the line. It was her footsteps he heard first, heavy thuds against the ground that kept time with her heavy breaths.

"Rick?"

"Are you in the park now?"

"No, it was back somewhere else."

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Rick looked back at the map, scanning it for other landmarks. "What about a school? A church? Cemetery? Bank?"

"No."

"Tell me about the stores…what are they?"

"I…umm…a bakery. There's a restaurant I think."

The line went silent again, Rick closing his eyes in fear. "Carrie? Are you there?"

"…there's a drug store, and a sports store…a real estate agent."

Rubbing his forehead, he continued consulting the map, but he needed her to find something that was listed there. "Tell me about the street you're on now."

"What about it?"

"Is it two lanes, or four?"

"Uh…looks like four."

"Is it cleared?"

"Y-yes…someone moved all the cars."

"Is there a big median strip down the middle? Full of weeds?"

There was a short pause. "Yes."

Feeling his gut instinct coming to life, Rick thought back to the day they had arrived here, when he, Abraham, Tobin and Daryl had come into the city to look around. Maybe, just maybe, he knew where she was.

"Can you go back to the drug store?"

He heard Carrie slow down to a stop, giving a short groan. She panted for breath before she finally answered. "Yeah," she agreed, setting off again. The connection went silent again for a few moments, everyone waiting until they heard her footsteps again. Hearing the sounds of a Walker, he listened as Carrie shoved it out of her way, grunting from the effort required. Listening to her heavy breaths and unsteady gait, he knew she had to be exhausted…why couldn't she just wait in the car like he told her to?

"I'm there," she gasped, wheezing.

"Good," he praised. "Tell me about the front…is the window on one side of the door in tact, and the window on the other side broken?"

"Yes."

Rick sighed in relief, quickly echoed by Daryl who also figured it out. Her description of the street and store was remarkably similar to the drug store he and Daryl had checked out the day they arrived at the underground bunker.

"Christ," Daryl frowned, jabbing his finger at a point on the map. "There she is."

"That's the other side of town!" Glenn gasped, his eyes widening. "How did she get all the way over there?"

"I don't know, but let's haul ass," Daryl declared, snatching up the map and heading back for the car. "Rick, tell the others."

Following their lead, he resumed his position in the drivers seat and turned the car around, heading back the way they had come. "Rosita…Tobin? She's on Prince Street, the west side of town. Get there fast."

"T6 on the map," Glenn added.

"It's T6 on the map," Rick repeated, clumsily swerving around a Walker. "Carrie? I want you to find somewhere safe, and wait for us. We're coming."

His group were the closest, but all three cars raced towards her location, horribly aware of the other group that might also be heading there. If they wanted to hurt her, to hold her hostage in exchange for their supplies, Rick knew they were going to have to make the sacrifice. They couldn't afford to be caught up in a gun fight over supplies, no matter how valuable they were, no matter how much they had risked to get them. Rick could not return to Alexandria without their entire group.

"Carrie, what's going on?" he asked, hearing rapid footsteps over the radio. "Find somewhere safe and wait."

"I can't," she panted. The line went silent for a few moments before she held the button down again. "I have to go."

"What are you running from?" When she didn't reply, Rick started to panic. "Carrie, answer me."

"From them," she finally panted.

"Stay on Prince street," he told her, needing to keep track of her.

"No, I can't. I - "

Her explanation was suddenly cut short, and the radio went silent again. Feeling his hands begin to shake, he just waited, Glenn and Daryl all staring at the radio and waiting for it to sound again. Though he wanted to call out to her, to beg her to respond, Rick forced himself not to. If she was running from something, human or not, his voice over the radio could give her away. Almost a minute passed before they heard her again, a minute in which he mounted the curb and drove over an old bicycle in his haste. The line flickered a few times, and he just managed to catch the fragmented sound of her panting with exertion.

"Rick? I'm here Rick."

"What's going on?"

"It was them," she panted. Holding down the button on the radio, it was clear she was running at full pace, her voice barely audible over her panting breaths. "They're still looking for me."

"Are they on foot or in a car?"

"On foot. I couldn't see any lights."

"Ask her what direction she went," Daryl requested, climbing into the back seat. He and Glenn sat side by side, the map opened to the area where they thought Carrie was.

"Does she sound like she knows north from south?" Rick snapped, the tyres of the car squealing as he took a corner too fast. The urgency to reach her only compounded with every passing second, worsened by the sound of her groaning as she pushed past yet another Walker.

"Did she go downhill, or uphill?"

His jaw clenched, Rick relayed the question to her.

"Down."

"If she went downhill, she's probably taken one of the crossroads off Prince," Daryl muttered, showing Glenn something. "When she ditched the drug store, what way did she go? Left or right?"

"Carrie? When you left the drug store, did you go left or right?"

"Right."

Letting Daryl take the lead, Rick followed his instructions on where to go. By the time another thirty seconds had elapsed, thirty seconds in which Rick grew agonisingly close to her location, Carrie was slowing, her breathing getting heavier and her footsteps becoming lacklustre.

"You there, Carrie?"

"Yeah…" she managed. She started coughing, gasping for breath. "I'm…I'm just gonna lay low, okay?"

"Keep the radio on, I want to be able to hear you."

There were a few small grunts, Carrie giving a long sigh as her body finally came to rest. "I'm underneath a car."

"Are there any Walkers around?"

"No."

Rifling around in the back, Daryl found another one of their radios. "Carrie, it's Daryl…tell me about the road you're on now. It's going uphill, right?"

"Yeah."

"Two or four lanes?'

"Two."

"What 'bout a median strip?" he asked, clicking his fingers and telling Rick to slow down.

"No."

Seeing something Rick couldn't, Daryl wasted no time in asking for his blessing for what he was about to do. Simply throwing his crossbow over his shoulder, he gave Rick and Glenn their instructions. "Let me out here. Go three blocks straight, and then turn right," he told them. "Go another three blocks and then wait for me. Watch yah asses."

Trusting him, Rick stopped the car and let Daryl take the lead, watching as he simply disappeared into the darkness without so much as a moment of hesitation. Letting Glenn jump out to take the front seat, Rick followed Daryl's instructions to the letter, passing by Prince street, their original goal. As he drove, he relayed the change of plans to Carrie.

"Daryl's on foot looking for you," he told her. "Do not come out until you hear his voice, until you know it's him."

"I won't," she whispered.

Just before he turned right as per Daryl's instructions, Rick's frustration grew when he caught sight of a police car whose rear door was wide open. Turning right they continued on the street parallel to Prince, knowing she had to be on one of these cross roads…she couldn't be very far by now. Progressing three blocks, he came to a stop in the middle of the road and turned off the engine and headlights. Not needing to tell Glenn anything, the two of them stepped out of the car and quickly armed themselves. If there were people out on foot right now, then they had to be prepared for them, they had to be prepared to defend themselves. There were a few Walkers heading their way, but not so many that he was concerned. With he and Glenn standing back to back, watching both directions of the street, Rick was more concerned with finding Carrie, with making sure the people who had suddenly made themselves known were not going to cause more problems. They were more than certain to be in this area, and they'd already forced Carrie to make a run for it more than once that night.

It was difficult to stand there and do nothing, even though he knew that trusting Daryl was the right choice. All control was now out of his hands, and Carrie's fate rested on Daryl's ability to find her in the darkness before the other group did. The only thing Rick could do was keep watch of their surroundings and listen to Carrie, who as instructed was still holding down the button on the radio. It was the only comfort afforded to him right now, the fact that he could hear her breathing, that he had some insight into what was going on with her.

Just as this comforting factor occurred to him, Carrie's breathing suddenly changed, a sharp intake of breath capturing Rick's attention. The line went dead, and he felt Glenn shift restlessly behind him, he too worried about the unexpected change. They couldn't hear her anymore, but he resisted the urge to ask her what had happened, not knowing what type of situation she was facing. Before he knew it thirty seconds had passed in silence before he felt Glenn nudging him from behind. Looking over his shoulder, Rick watched two figures appearing at the mouth of a cross street, and though his heart momentarily leapt, it was short lived. The two figures were clearly not Daryl and Carrie, and while his first instinct was to raise his gun at them, Glenn stopped him.

"Wait," he whispered.

The two figures were moving quickly, but trusting Glenn's judgement, Rick watched a little longer. A moment later they moved into the moonlight, and he could see that they were walking away from them, their hands in the air. Watching their silhouettes, he knew that they must be from the group that Carrie had fled from…but why were they walking with their hands in the air?

"Rick?" Daryl's gruff voice came over the radio. "I got her."

Feeling his knees weaken a little, Rick closed his eyes and sent up a brief prayer of thanks. Watching as the two figures disappeared into the darkness, he took his radio off his belt and raised it. "She's with you now?"

"I'm looking right at her."

Letting Glenn clap him on the arm, he didn't let himself relax just yet. "Rosita, Tobin. You guys head back. Daryl, tell me where you two are, we'll come get you."

"Nah," Daryl grunted. "Wait where I told you. We're comin'."

Reluctantly, Rick turned his back to Glenn so that they once again covered both ends of the street. Barely ten seconds passed before Glenn was nudging him again, and when he looked over his shoulder again he saw that the shadows in the distance were moving again. He knew on instinct that it was Daryl and Carrie, the shadows quickly forming two familiar silhouettes. Speechless with relief, he checked their surroundings again, being sure that the other group weren't sneaking up on them the very moment they relaxed a little. Certain that they were safe, Rick secured his gun and swung it over his shoulder as he started towards Carrie.

As they came close enough to see each other, her shoulders seemed to slump with relief, Daryl's hand on her shoulder ushering her forward. Beginning to see the state she was in, Rick rushed to close the gap between them, and he roughly pulled her against his chest the moment he could do so. He brought his arms around her tightly, needing to feel with his own hands that she was there, that she was real. Cold, wet and shivering, it took her a moment to return his embrace, and her hands trembled as she reached around his waist. There was silence from both of them, Rick feeling the way she clenched her fingers into his jacket, her hair wet against his neck.

He wanted to hold her just like that, to keep her right there in his arms where he could protect her, but he knew he couldn't. Not saying anything, he kissed the top of her wet forehead and quickly ushered her into the car, needing to get her safely inside. "What happened with them?" he asked Daryl, gesturing up the street.

"They nearly got to her first," he grunted, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder before taking out his cigarettes. "I told them to take a hike or take a bolt."

Nodding at him gratefully, Rick helped Carrie get up into the back seat, seeing her wincing as she moved. "Are you alright?" he asked, even though he could see that she wasn't. Using the interior light to see by, his heart sank as he saw the state she was in, noticing that her hair was matted with blood.

She nodded, even though she was dripping wet and barely holding it together. Not wasting any time, he followed her in and closed the door, Daryl and Glenn quickly joining them. As Glenn alerted the others and Daryl started off back towards Walmart, Rick kept his attention solely on her, relieving her of her gun and putting it in the pocket of the passenger seat.

He looked her up and down a second time, noting she wore a filthy pair of grey sweat pants and blue sneakers. "What happened to your clothes?" he asked in concern, helping her peel off the damp coat.

"I had to change," she answered, her voice hoarse as she looked around. "Is there any-"

"Water? Here," he said, reaching through to the front and grabbing the bottle from the centre console. Opening the lid and passing it to her, he watched as she gratefully drank from it before giving an audible gasp of relief.

"Thanks."

"Get your shirt off," he instructed hastily, unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off. "You need to get warm."

Trembling, Carrie could hardly get her hands to cooperate, let alone make her fingers dexterous enough. Taking over, Rick helped her peel off the oversized shirt off before dropping it to the floor, clumsily removing her bra at her request. Though her torso was completely exposed for a few moments, it seemed Carrie couldn't care less, more intent on trying to get warm. Rick however took the chance to look her over for injuries, for a lone scratch or bite that would seal her fate. Aside from a few new scrapes and bruises, she seemed completely unharmed, knowledge that brought him some comfort as he helped her put his jacket on. Closing the zip, he pulled her long hair out from under the collar, the wet locks only serving to keep her cold. The sweatpants she wore were also damp, but with nothing else she could wear she'd have to bear it for now.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She seemed to be avoiding his gaze, and in concern Rick made her to look up at him, his fingers underneath her chin. Her eyes were red and her cheeks moist, but it wasn't from the rain. Crying with relief, she echoed exactly what Rick wanted to do, what he was holding back from. Understanding, he hastily brushed the moisture away and then moved closer, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder. There was blissful silence as they travelled through the city back towards Walmart, even though Rick knew the night wasn't over, that as soon as they could get themselves ready they would have to leave. They'd be taking a risk, particularly with pumping gas in the middle of the night, but they couldn't sit tight and wait for this group to arrive on their doorstep

"I need you to tell me what happened this afternoon," he began apologetically. "Now, before we get back to the others."

The mention of what happened seemed to rouse her, and she raised her head and looked at him imperatively. "Is Nicholas alright?"

He frowned at this question. "You're kidding me."

"Is he alright?"

"After he left you for dead? No, he's lucky I didn't kill him."

To his surprise, she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "He's alright then," she muttered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she pulled away from his embrace and wiped her cheeks.

"Tell me what happened," he asked again, noting that Daryl and Glenn were also listening attentively.

"I was just a stupid mistake," she said quietly, her tone making it sound like she didn't want to get anyone in trouble. "He opened a door I told him not to…he just didn't listen, that's all."

"You told him not to open the door?" Glenn questioned, turning around in his seat. "And he opened it anyway?

"I don't think he was paying attention when I told him," she explained. "I was in one of the other offices when he did it, and I…" she trailed off, taking a deep breath as she pushed her wet hair off her face. "I…I'm sorry, I was so stupid…"

As they reached the main highway and sped off towards Walmart, Rick enquired, "What are you sorry for?"

"I should have stayed and waited. I knew someone would come back and look for me, but there were too many Walkers to take on by myself. I thought I could catch up to Nicholas, and then I just got so lost in that place."

Rick nodded, understanding what she was saying. Noting how cold her hands were, he took both of them in his and squeezed, grateful for Daryl's recklessly fast driving. He wanted to get her inside the real estate office and into warm clothing, hating to see her in the state she was. Even the day he'd picked her up covered in Walker guts, her state hadn't made his stomach clench the way it did now.

"…I stayed in the carpark for as long as I could, but I had to go. It was getting dark, and - "

"Wait," Rick cut her off, not understanding. "You stayed in what car park?"

"At Walmart."

"You made it to Walmart?"

"Yes," she nodded, frowning at his expression. "You said to go there if-"

"What time?" he asked, already feeling the righteous anger seething in his stomach. "What time did you get there?"

Carrie hesitated, not liking the tone of his voice. "Just as the sun was setting," she answered, swaying as they suddenly turned into the very car park they spoke of. "Why?"

"Was anyone waiting for you?"

"No. I told you, I stayed for as long as I could, but I had to go. There were Walkers, and I…What?" she demanded. "Rick?"

Letting go of her hands, Rick ignored Daryl who was already trying to talk him down, realising exactly why Aidan had really moved the red sedan. He had left his post at Walmart…he wasn't there when Carrie came back. With grim resolution, he opened his door the moment the car skidded to a stop, stepping out into the rain and leaving Carrie calling out after him in confusion. Slamming the door shut, he took note that everyone had returned safely, that they were all outside waiting for the last group to return. Brushing off Daryl's attempts to talk him down, Rick looked around for two people in particular, Aidan being the unlucky one he saw first.

"Aidan!" he shouted loudly, furiously marching towards him. "You waited here the whole time?"

Aidan looked around in confusion, allowing Rick to see the exact moment that realisation flashed in his eyes. With everyone's attention already on him, the whole group watched in bewilderment as he drew his fist back and punched him square in the mouth, the blow knocking him off his feet. There was simultaneous shouting from the rest of the group, but Rick barely heard them, more intent on enjoying the grim satisfaction of his fist connecting with Aidan's mouth, watching the way his head whipped to the side upon impact. He hit the ground hard, howling in pain as he clutched his face.

Rick felt a brief moment of peacefulness as he observed what he was done, his actions righteously justified, and in that moment he thought that would be the end of it, for Aidan anyway. But when he finally stopped whimpering, Aidan started babbling instead. Looking highly affronted, he staggered back to his feet with the aid of Tobin.

"What the hell?" he demanded, clutching his jaw. "What was that for?"

"What was that for?" Rick angrily questioned, starting forward again. Perhaps he needed to make himself clearer, and right now he felt the best way was to use his fists.

Before he could get close enough, Abraham all but pounced on him, knowing better than to let him continue. Grabbing him by both arms, he wrenched him away, staggering when Rick unexpectedly fought back. Hearing Carrie screaming at him to stop, he somehow managed to wrench himself out of Abraham's grip and lunged for Aidan again, infuriated by every word that fell from his mouth. He had the nerve to try defend himself, his babbled words being something Rick very much wanted to put a stop to. He nearly got close enough, but too quick for him, Abraham and Daryl grabbed him and held him back, and this time all the righteous anger in the world wouldn't fight them off.

"I gave you one job to do!" he roared, staggering as Daryl roughly yanked his arm. "One simple job, and you fucked it up!"

"What?" Aidan appealed, not understanding.

"Carrie came here! She came here looking for us! Where were you?"

Aidan's eyes flickered shut as he gave a low groan of realisation. "I was looking for her," he tried to explain, blood dribbling over his bottom lip. "No one was checking the highway."

Livid, Rick fought against Daryl and Abraham, his anger needing a physical release in order to find satisfaction, preferably against Aidan's face. But together they were too strong, and before he could demand they let him go, Rick's attention was diverted to the other person who had nearly killed Carrie, to the person who was truly to blame for all this. Nicholas rushed forward to defend Aidan, and this threatened to push Rick over the edge.

"Rick, it's not hi-"

"Don't even get me started on you," he shouted, feeling his voice straining his throat. "I ought'a kill you for what you did to her!"

Panicked, Nicholas hastened to explain, to smooth things over. "Look, he - I…" Nicholas began hurriedly, looking around. He set his eyes on Carrie, his expression anguished. "Carrie, I'm sorry! I'm sorry for wh-"

Having taken all that he could handle, Glenn burst forward. "Don't talk to her," he said angrily, shoving Nicholas back. "You think you can leave her for dead and then just apologise?"

"I didn't mean to," Nicholas pleaded, not retaliating against Glenn. Stepping around him, he looked back at Carrie, who simply stood there like a deer in the headlights, not knowing what to do. "You've got to believe me, Carrie. I'd never do that intentionally."

Intending to fight his way out of the vice grip on his arms, Rick started forward again, wanting nothing more than to wipe the faux apologetic look off Nicholas' face. But before he could take more than a step Glenn surprised them all, his spirit reaching breaking point. Grabbing him by the back of his jacket, Glenn wrenched him back and then landed a punch square in the nose. Hearing Nicholas' muffled grunt of pain was immensely satisfying, though not more so than seeing him slump back against the hood of a nearby car, clutching his face. There were indignant shouts from Aidan and exasperated groanss from others, Michonne shaking her head as she stepped forward and placed her hand on Glenn's shoulder. While she made Glenn back off and allow Aaron to come to Nicholas' aid, Rick turned to Daryl.

"Let me go," he said shortly, looking him in the eye. "I'm done."

"Are yah," he questioned gruffly, and the look he gave Rick indicated his trust ought not be taken advantage of.

"Yes," he said shortly, pulling his arms out of Abraham and Daryl's grip the moment they relaxed it.

Moving slowly, Rick forced himself to swallow his fury as he assessed the scene before him. Aaron was helping Nicholas back to his feet, while Aidan stood nearby, warily watching Rick's every move. His righteous anger vindicated, Rick found he cared little for either of them, his attention and concern needed elsewhere. Halfway back towards the real estate office, Carrie stood out in the rain as she watched the scene, oblivious to the way Rosita was trying to get her inside. Her distress was written all over her face, Rick able to see how upset she was not just by what had happened to her, but by what had unfolded before her eyes. Though he was impatient with her concern for the people who had nearly killed her, he feigned understanding as he approached her.

"Go inside," he requested shortly, putting his hand on her shoulder and making her turn around. "Get cleaned up. Rosita?"

Letting Rosita take over, he watched as Carrie for once did as she was told, he looked inside and saw Carl's silhouette waiting in the doorway, accounting for his whereabouts. Returning to the group, who stood in silence awaiting his next move, he clenched his jaw as he looked around at them all, doing a quick headcount and ascertaining that they were all there. Casting another look at Aidan and Nicholas, pleased to see they were bleeding from their mouth and nose respectively, he felt somewhat satisfied. He didn't bother to consult with Abraham about their next move…there was no debate to be had.

"Pack up," he said shortly, his voice still seething. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes."


	40. Chapter 40

Carrie's mind was still scrambling to catch up while she watched Rick punching Aidan, the heavy blow knocking him off his feet with a loud yell of pain. Despite not understanding the situation, she screamed at Rick to stop, grateful when Abraham got him and held him back, but even then it took Daryl's help to properly restrain him. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Rick was so enraged by Aidan's incompetence that it took two other men to restrain him, not that it stopped him getting his point across. Verbally laying into him, Rick's fury only allowed the situation to escalate and get worse. First it was Aidan who wouldn't shut up, and then Nicholas…then Glenn got involved.

It felt like an absolute mess, so much so that when Rick finally calmed down and came over to her, firmly requesting that she go inside, she did so without protest. She'd been through enough that day, and the last thing she wanted to do was face the root cause of the problem straight away, but nor did she want to watch Rick dealing with it either. Gratefully letting Rosita escort her back inside, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on staying steady while her left leg ached terribly. Leaving the others outside in the rain, Carrie headed into what appeared the real estate office, noting by the equipment and supplies that the group had already settled in for the night. Received to be out of the wind and rain, she looked around the reception area, noting that Carl was checking on a pot over their camping stove. As if he'd seen it all before and was bored by it, the teenager showed little interest in what was going on outside. Rather he simply attended to what he could see would be needed next….warm water.

"Jesus," Rosita cursed, leading Carrie into a back office and setting a camping lantern on the table. "You look like something that came out of a drain. What happened to your head?" she enquired, shining her flashlight on her scalp.

"I bumped it."

While Carl followed them in on his crutches and dumped something large in the corner, Carrie sank down into the leather office chair and let he and Rosita start attending to her injuries. Carl set out a medical kit and began laying things out, sorting through what he thought they'd need while Rosita snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. While they discussed various options, Carrie looked around the room and noticed a familiar blue pack, seeing that Carl had brought in her things for her. Shakily getting to her feet, she crossed the room and opened it gratefully, rifling through the contents until she found a pair of yoga pants she had laundered a day ago.

"Carl, turn around," she told him, removing her sneakers and wet socks.

He did so hastily, shuffling over to the door and standing by it to make sure no one tried to come in unannounced. Hardly concerned, Carrie just peeled off the damp sweatpants and started to redress, taking the opportunity to look at the front of her left leg. It was swollen and tender to the touch, and dark shadows were already beginning to form a pretty sizeable bruise. Pulling the yoga pants on, she adjusted the fabric so that it didn't compress the injury, and then sank back down into the office chair. Her feet felt like bricks of ice, and so while she let Rosita and Carl tend to the cut on her head, she pulled her feet up onto the chair and squeezed them with her hands. Feeling the warmth returning to her toes she began to relax a little bit, content to let Rosita and Carl fuss.

While Carl held the flashlight, Rosita carefully parted Carrie's hair and assessed the wound, apologising as she dabbed at it with some antiseptic. With her head bowed and her hair shielding her face, she closed her eyes as she tried to keep it together, listening as Carl enquired as to whether or not Rosita knew how to do stitches. While Rosita explained her plan, Carrie tried to relax her mind, but this was easier said than done. With her eyes closed she thought back to the moment she thought that other group had gotten to her first, that things were about to go very wrong.

She'd been laying underneath a car, resting her aching body, and when she'd heard the sound of footsteps coming up the street she did not allow herself to rejoice. While she knew now that Daryl was on foot looking for her, she also knew how close the pursuers from the other group were. They'd been chasing her ever since they'd caught up to her at the pharmacy Rick had recognised, and it was only down to luck that she'd managed to evade them thus far. It felt like they were around every corner, their relentless pursuit reaffirming the idea that they didn't want to help her.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Carrie had shrunk further underneath the car in an effort to remain hidden, muting the volume on her radio just in case someone spoke and accidentally gave her away. She held her breath as she waited, remembering Rick's instructions to not come out until she knew for sure that it was Daryl. Heeding those instructions, she waited, resisting the urge to close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else. All too soon it happened, and before she could prepare herself someone was on her left, crouching down beside the car and shining their flashlight at her with a whoop of delight.

"Here, this one!" they whispered loudly.

She was scrambling to her right before she could even think, but she was quickly stopped by the arrival of a second person. Access out the front and rear of the car were blocked, and the arrival of the second person on her other side trapped her, leaving her with no option but to lay there in panic, and the only scream for help she could make was inside her head. The second man reached underneath the car and roughly knocked her radio out of her hand, cutting off her communication before reaching for her leg. She flinched as he reached for her, immediately fearing that his touch would be sexually motivated, that he was going to physically drag her out and then force himself on her right then and there. But it was her gun he was reaching for, and he easily unlatched it from the holster and took her absolute last defence.

Then they were dragging her out after all, the two men joining forces on one side and forcing her from under the car. Cooperating only so that she didn't lose the skin on her hands she moved as far as necessary, and when she felt the rain hitting her face she started to fight back, possessing the element of surprise. Aiming carefully, she pressed her thumb into the eye of the closest man, making him lurch back with a howl and let go of her arm. It was her second move that faltered, for she stupidly kicked out with her injured leg, and she might as well have not bothered for all the force she mustered. But despite this, the two men suddenly stepped back, dumping her unceremoniously to the wet road.

At first she was frightened when she looked up, not recognising the strangely shaped silhouette, but second glance told her it was Daryl, his crossbow raised. Giving a low moan of relief, Carrie stayed down where she was, both paralysed with fear and knowing to stay low. While the relief flooded through her, she looked through the darkness at Daryl's boots, watching as he boldly edged closer and closer.

"How 'bout you take a hike," he warned the two men, his voice low and threatening. "Or take a bolt…your choice."

Making the right decision, the two men standing over Carrie backed away slowly, heeding Daryl's instructions that they raise their hands above their heads and leave. Carrie watched them disappearing into the darkness, but as she went to push herself up to her feet Daryl quickly told her to stay down. He was looking in the other direction now, his body and crossbow poised for an immediate strike.

"Yah wanna test my aim with this thing?" he growled loudly, speaking to someone Carrie couldn't see. "Yah gonna back off then. Now."

Waiting for it all to be over, Carrie stayed down until she felt Daryl's hand touching her shoulder, awkwardly grabbing her arm and helping her up to her feet. Without preamble he looked her over, tilting his head as he roughly patted down the side of her right leg.

"Where's yah gun?" he asked brusquely, taking out a flashlight.

Unable to speak, her voice stalled in her throat, Carrie blankly gestured to the direction in which the first men had left. But by chance it seemed they had dropped it in the scuffle, and moments later Daryl was clipping her Ruger back into the holster on her behalf.

"Rick?" he said into the radio. "I got her."

Even though she still felt paralysed with shock, the moment Daryl put his hand between her shoulders and started leading her back to the others, she knew she was going to be okay again. As simple as that, Carrie was alright again. In a way that no one had since the day Wade rescued her from a dumpster in Atlanta, her group had come through for her, had fought and risked themselves on her behalf. The relief compounded only when she saw Rick, feeling the relief in his body as he embraced her and then started fussing, worried about her state. Dwelling on everything, Carrie suddenly remembered that she hadn't thanked Daryl…she hadn't thanked any of them, not that she chance had been allowed to her.

"All done," Rosita declared a short while later, pulling off her gloves and throwing them into the trash.

"Thank you," Carrie replied, slowly raising her head. She resisted the temptation to touch the cut on her scalp, knowing the skin adhesive applied needed time to properly set.

Just nodding, Rosita left for a few moments to collect some warm water, leaving Carrie and Carl alone together. Paying attention now, she was distinctly aware of the chatter coming from the other rooms, and she was glad to note that the argument seemed to have blown over, for now anyway. Listening, she wondered what Rick was doing, if he and the others were as concerned by this other group in town as she was. She wouldn't be surprised if they were in fact preparing to leave as soon as possible, regardless of the time of night.

"Do you want something to eat?" Carl offered, seeing her take a drink of water.

She shook her had. "Maybe in a little while," she said, thanking him a moment later. She honestly didn't think she could stomach much at the moment, with even the little sip of water making her stomach uneasy.

"We were all really worried about you." He was seated on the desk now, swinging his legs underneath. "Especially my dad."

Looking away, for she didn't want Carl to see how much that meant to hear, Carrie just nodded. "He'd a good leader." She glanced up at him a moment later, glad to see that he wasn't reading too much into what he had said about Rick.

Thankfully Rosita returned a few moments later, carrying a bucket of warm water and a hairbrush. When she gestured for Carrie to follow, she did so eagerly, relishing the thought of being warm and clean once again. The hallway carpet was warm and soft beneath her feet, and she revelled in this as she tried to catch the conversations she could hear from the other rooms. Passing by what looked like a staffroom she caught Michonne's eye, seeing that she looked concerned about something. Carrie didn't stop to ask what, more concerned about just getting herself cleaned up while she had the chance.

Going further down the hallway she followed Rosita into an employee's restroom, the floor to ceiling tiles making it colder than the other rooms. Closing the lid of the toilet, she took a seat and bent her head over the bucket, letting Rosita wash the blood from her hair. Sitting there silently, she felt her muscles tightening, and knew that she would be sore tomorrow. By her best judgement she had made it clear across down, and then had pushed herself to almost to breaking point while trying to find a street name to help Rick find her. Although it was comforting to know that Rick was looking for her, the thought of he and the others wandering around in the darkness frightened her, especially with the knowledge that there was another group there too, that they weren't alone. She had tried to tell them to go back, to assure them that she'd be safe until the morning, but Daryl wouldn't hear of it. No doubt he had Rick in his ear, telling him to keep Carrie talking, to keep her distracted so that she wouldn't panic. But she knew better. If they weren't going to wait until the morning to find her, then she had to do her part too. Abandoning the police car, she made a run for it and tried to find a street sign, only make her situation worse when she couldn't manage to read any of them in the darkness.

Mentally shaking her head to herself, Carrie knew she shouldn't have stayed in the car, especially when she had Rick and the others on the other end of the radio. Though his voice still sounded furious with her, he had calmly helped her figure out where the hell she was, asking specific questions that narrowed down her location until they figured it out together. His voice had brought her comfort, reassuring her that it was going to be alright. Reflecting on that now, she knew she should have trusted his judgement from the very moment she heard Daryl's voice over the radio…only a few days ago Rick had told her to always trust him, that even when things looked bad, she could depend on him. She felt immensely stupid for not listening to him that night.

A soft knock echoed through the small restroom, Aaron's voice coming a moment later. "Carrie? There's more water out 'ere," he said softly. "And your pack."

Her throat clenched tightly, she was unable to reply. Thankfully Rosita came to her aid, thanking him on her behalf before finishing the task at hand. Taking up the towel, she used it to squeeze the water from Carrie's long hair before carefully taking a brush to it, mindful of the wound.

"Thanks," Carrie managed, grateful for her help. Her shoulders were sore and aching, and she didn't think she could raise them long enough to do the task herself.

"No problem," she muttered back. Lingering for a moment, Rosita considered her. "Do you want me to give you some privacy?"

Carrie nodded, knowing she could take it from there. When Rosita departed, taking the bucket of used water with her, she looked into her pack and retrieved some more clothing, grateful that someone had thought to retrieve her a new set of boots. Taking the fresh towel that had been laid out, she took the new bucket of water and headed back into the restroom, glad for the privacy and solitude it provided. She fastened the lock on the door and then got straight to work, starting by tying her hair into a loose bun to keep it off her back.

Carefully stripping off, she flexed her sore muscles and rolled her shoulders, grateful that the water provided was warm. She carefully hung Rick's jacket on the back of the door and then returned her yoga pants to her pack, knowing they weren't warm enough to wear outside. Taking the cloth, she rubbed it over her neck and shoulders, watching as dirty water trickled down her body. She had showered only the other day at the underground bunker, and it surprised her how filthy she had become after just one afternoon and night on foot, fighting hand to hand with Walkers. There was blood and gore caked underneath her finger nails, embedded in every crease on her hands like a stain that needed more than water to remove. Though on the surface she looked clean, she knew traces still lingered, marking her.

Glancing up at herself in the mirror, she realised she had forgotten to wash her face. Quickly looking away, she dipped the cloth back into the water and scrubbed her face, flinching as a scrape on her chin began to sting. She quickly finished cleaning herself up, drying herself and redressing before she got much colder. But even when she was finished she didn't immediately look in the mirror again, not wanting to see the face that would look back at her. The first night at the prison had also been the first time she had looked at herself in the mirror for months, and her reflection had felt strange and foreign to her. It felt that way now, and yet she forced herself to look again. She considered the person staring back at her, knowing that it was her, knowing that the face itself hadn't changed…only grown a little older and thinner.

Looking away again, she sat down on the lid of the toilet and put on two pairs of clean socks, pulling the new boots on next. Finally she shrugged Maggie's jacket back on, grateful to have it again and determined that she wouldn't be caught without it a second time. Fully dressed, she knew she should have gone straight out to the others, to reassure them that she was alright, but she lingered in the restroom. With a long sigh, she put her elbows on her knees and leant forward, looking at the light that shone underneath the door. Someone was out there waiting for her. She had heard them moving about a few minutes ago, pacing until the sound of their footsteps went quiet. They were still out there though…she could sense their presence.

Irrationally, Carrie wanted to delay her return to the group for as long as ridiculousness of this did not escape her, especially given how desperately she had fought to return to them, how they had fought for her too. But she could take a few more minutes to herself…she deserved them. Clearing her throat, she enjoyed her solitude for as long as she dared, not wanting to make the others worry about her. Collecting the things she had used, she slung Rick's jacket over her shoulder and opened the restroom door. Stepping into the hallway, she wasn't surprised to see who it was waiting for her. It was Rick of course, Rick who had been nervously pacing as he awaited her. A camping lantern sat on the ground beside him, and he looked her up and down with the expected expression of worry while he slowly got to his feet. Mimicking his action, Carrie looked down at herself too, making sure she spoke first.

"Better?" she enquired softly, taking her hair out of the low bun.

Rick nodded, his hands in his pockets. "Better."

This was not the first time Rick had been witness to her transformation, although this time he looked less surprised by her metamorphosis and more relieved. He hesitated awkwardly, his lips parted as though he were going to say something, but unsure of what.

"Thank you," she began softly, holding out his jacket to him.

"You're welcome," he replied, the words formed automatically. He slipped the jacket on before turning away to pick something up off the ground. "Here…for you."

He presented her with a travel mug, the hard plastic warming Carrie's hands as she gratefully took it from him. She managed a smile when she saw the teabag hanging from underneath the lid. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied for a second time, now passing her two Tylenol.

Taking a sip of the tea, she gratefully swallowed the Tylenol and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks for this, Rick," she said, her throat starting to tighten up as she tried to continue. "And for…"

Seeing her struggle, Rick cut her off gently. "That's the third time you've said thank you," he told her, his mouth curling a little.

"Well, you just keep giving me reason to."

He nodded, sighing as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "Come on," he gestured to an office across the hall before picking up the camping lantern. "We need to talk."

She wished that it could wait, that whatever it is he wanted could be put off until later, but she followed him into the office, knowing that it must be important. Beyond tired, Carrie dumped her pack sat down on the edge of the desk, warming her hands on her mug of tea as she waited for him to start. He hovered awkwardly, his face pinched into a frown as he perhaps wondered where to begin. Waiting patiently, it suddenly occurred to her that yesterday she'd sat on a desk not unlike this, her legs around his hips as they snuck in a quickie at the Walmart pharmacy. She remembered it clearly, easily recalling the sensation of his breath against her neck, his hands holding her hips steady. Though she remembered, it also felt strangely foreign to her, as though it had happened weeks ago.

"Is Aidan alright?" she asked, speaking first.

As she suspected he might, Rick was exasperated by her concern. "He's fine."

"And Nicholas?"

"He's fine," Rick repeated, his voice low. Narrowing his eyes at her, he actually looked irritated. "You done worrying about people who nearly killed you?"

Feeling like a child who'd been chastised, Carrie looked away and took another sip from her tea. "What is it you want to talk about it?

"The people you saw," he answered. With a long sigh he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight onto one foot as he looked at her. "What can you tell me about them?"

Carrie echoed his sigh. She felt far too tired to be having this conversation right now. "There were six or so men…they all had guns."

"Do you know what type?"

She shrugged. "Big ones. Rifles."

"Any women with them?"

"Maybe. I couldn't see them that well."

"Cars?"

"At least one."

He nodded, flexing his jaw. Pausing, he seemed to be thinking through his next question. "Did they hurt you?"

Realising why he seemed so uncomfortable, she hastened to assure him. "No. Not at all," she said, seeing him visibly start to relax. "They told me they knew who I was, that they knew I'd been separated from you. They said that they'd take me back to you, but that they wanted a reward." Stopping, she took a deep breath as she remembered the fear that had filled her upon this request, to the place her mind immediately took her. "After they said that, I kind of just assumed the worst…do you know what I mean?"

"Yes," he nodded. "What happened then?"

"I asked them to let me go, but he just kept offering. So I took out my gun. They backed off then, and I made a run for it." She laughed shortly, remembering the way the guy shook his head in exasperation. "He actually seemed kind of annoyed with me for not hearing him out."

"I bet he was," Rick muttered darkly.

"Why?"

"Because even if they weren't going to take advantage of you, at the very least they would have held you hostage."

"Oh, right."

"It wouldn't have mattered, we'd have given them what they wanted," he assured her. "But those situations…they have a tendency to go bad, even when they look good."

Looking at the dark expression on his face, she could see sorrow in his eyes. "Is that what happened with Beth?"

He looked at her in surprise, and he flexed his jaw before slowly nodding. Carrie had suspected as much. She'd only ever heard of Beth, her name being one of those that a highly inebriated Glenn had warned her not to bring up. It seemed that Beth's loss was still very much a fresh wound for many.

"You did the right thing. Making a run for it," he added, seeing her confusion. "You can't gi-"

"Can't give everyone the benefit of the doubt," she concluded, cutting him off. Giving him a small smile, she nodded in agreement. "I heard what you said the other day."

Though she had expected him to be pleased this, Rick actually tensed. He scratched the back of his neck as he spoke next. "You heard what I said…but apparently not all of it sank in," he said gently. "I told you to stay in the police car."

Feeling her breath catch, she realised how much her actions had frustrated him. Even though he spoke them gently, his words stung at her, mainly because she knew he was right. They'd had this conversation before. He'd already asked her to show trust in him, and she had assured him she would, only to turn around and ignore what he had asked her to do that night.

"I was…" she tried to explain. "I was just trying to help you find me. I didn't want to endanger the group by letting you stay out all night."

"You're the group too," he reminded her. "And what the group does in that situation is my call. You need to trust my judgement."

"I do," she told him, despite the evidence to the contrary.

"Then act on that trust," he told her imperatively, coming a little closer to her.

She wanted to keep going, to tell him everything she had been thinking, to tell him she hadn't wanted anyone getting hurt on her behalf, but she stayed silent. There was no argument to make, because Rick was right. He was the group's leader, and it was his burden to make the calls he had made that night. Further to that, she could tell that even though he was chastising her, that he was frustrated by her impulsive actions, he wasn't angry. It seemed his patience with her knew no boundaries, and she suddenly realised how grateful she was to him. Her gratitude extended to more than just picking her up off the side of the road and providing her with necessities…he'd gone above and beyond for her again and again, despite her not showing him the type of trust he asked for in return.

"I'm sorry," she said humbly, looking him in the eye. "I'm trying."

"I know you are," he softly replied.

As it often did, silence fell once again, the heavy weight of it reminding her of how lucky she had been that afternoon. So many things could have gone wrong…it would have taken only a small scratch from a Walker to guarantee her death, and yet her only injury was somewhat self-inflicted. Even setting aside Walkers, with the strange group hanging around, likely the supply runners from Ohio, the whole group was lucky that a fight of some kind hadn't been started. Despite their presence, Rick had refused to give up on bringing her back to safety…none of them had.

"Thanks for-"

"Don't," he cut her off quickly, exasperated by her repetitive gratitude.

There was an awkward pause, Carrie's words stalled on her lips. Nodding, she tried to take a few slow breaths, starting to feel her emotions welling up again. She wasn't embarrassed by her need to cry…only surprised by it. Overwhelming sadness was one of the only emotions she felt during the four months she had been on her own, but most of the time she had been too exhausted or too dehydrated to properly cry, usually only managing a few breathless sobs before giving up. But now the emotions were welling up inside of her, and had already broken her once that night. She could feel the need for the cathartic release that came with crying, knowing it would bring her relief…but she squashed it down, preferring to remain tightly in control of herself.

Feeling Rick's gaze upon her, she actively avoided looking at him, not wanting to expose the true depth of everything she was feeling. He would see it for sure. Having him right there in front of her only made her feel more vulnerable, because she knew what she wanted, what she needed…but she held back from asking for it. They'd screwed around a few times, but that didn't mean anything…it didn't mean they were more than what they had been prior. Despite how much she was yearning for his touch, to feel the comfort she knew his embrace would bring, she also knew she wasn't entitled to it. Fooling around with him didn't make her his problem…he wasn't obligated to bring her solace. He'd had done enough for her already.

Perhaps he could read her better than she knew, for a moment later he was reaching for her. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it for a moment, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. Hearing the way her breath hitched, Rick cautiously stepped closer and asked her to look at him. Moving slowly, just in case she didn't want it, he raised his other hand and cupped her jaw, his calloused fingers warming her neck. His hand felt good on her skin, the warm weight of it feeling as though it anchored her to the ground. Realising that perhaps he needed this too, she set her tea aside and got to her feet, ignoring the ache in her leg.

There was no hesitation as they kissed, Rick lightly brushing his lips against hers before applying a little more pressure. Needing exactly this, Carrie gratefully reciprocated, pulling her hand from his and letting it rest on his waist, the mere weight of his hands on her bringing the comfort she had been hoping for. She felt completely safe with him, even though a part of her hated how she sought him out for comfort, how she needed it. He slowly pulled back from her, a sigh tickling her chin as he looked at her. His expression was unreadable, but his hand tenderly brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. It looked as though he was going to say something to her, but a sharp knock on the door distracted him.

"Two minutes," Michonne called out to them.

Realising their time was up, Carrie was disappointed. "We're leaving?"

"Yes, we are," he nodded. He trailed his hand down the side of her neck and then readjusted the collar of her jacket, making sure she would be warm enough.

"Because of the other people?"

"Yes. I figure if they were going to cause problems they would have done so by now, but I'd rather now give them the opportunity."

She nodded at this, glad to see that Rick was as disappointed their moment was over as she was. With reluctance he stepped back from her. "Ride in my car tonight," he requested. "Take the front seat so you can dry your hair."

Letting him slip back into his natural role of the leader, Carrie nodded and accepted his instructions. She wanted to kiss him again, to take just one more, but he had already turned away to pick up her pack for her. Not forgetting her tea, she tried to take the camping lantern, but Rick beat her to it, forcing her to let him fuss the way he clearly wanted to. They headed back out to the reception area, and while she braced herself for excessive expressions of concern and worry from the others, she was grateful to find that it was almost deserted. Michonne was the only one there, and she was glad that she didn't have to face Aidan or Nicholas, not entirely sure she had the capacity to deal with them just yet.

"Everyone's ready?" Rick confirmed, glancing out the window at their cars.

Michonne nodded. "Straight to the gas station, then we hit the road. We're leaving the sedan and taking the delivery van instead, like we planned. Each car has plenty of food and water, so once we're on the road Abraham doesn't want to stop until we need to change drivers or get gas."

"Carl?"

"He's in with you. We'll have Abraham and Rosita in the military truck, Tobin and Nicholas in the removal truck, Glenn and Daryl in the delivery van, then Aidan, Aaron and me in the minivan."

"Good," he nodded, giving his approval. "Let's go."

Before Carrie could take a moment to express her gratitude to Michonne, Rick put his hand between her shoulders and swept her towards the door, apparently not wanting to waste any more time. Looking at Michonne over her shoulder, she thanked her as they headed out into the cold night, wanting her to hear her appreciation.

"It's good to have you back," Michonne told her, giving her a quick smile before rushed off to the minivan, wanting to get out in the rain that had started again.

Letting Rick lead the way, Carrie focused on making sure she didn't trip over in the darkness, knowing she was wearing her last set of dry clothing. Looking at the other cars as they passed, her appreciation for her new group struck her again, and the weight of what it all meant was staggering to comprehend. They were bringing her into their home, and they were merely days away from Alexandria. Grateful for it all, Carrie thanked Rick as he held the passenger door open, and she sighed as the warm interior engulfed her. The engine and heater already running, she knew she was going to sleep comfortably for the rest of the night. As Rick opened the trunk to deposit her pack, Carl's voice roused her from her thoughts.

"Here," he said, passing a pillow to her from the back seat. "That one's yours, right?"

"Yeah, thanks." Taking it, she put her tea in the cup holder and then started to get comfortable, taking the blanket Carl passed to her next. She glanced into the back, seeing that the open trunk of the car was crammed full of supplies.

"You can recline your seat back if you want," he said next, stretching out across the back seat as he too prepared to sleep for the night. "And there's heaps of food and water back here too."

Thanking him again, she reclined her seat and pulled her injured leg up as Rick opened his door and got in. He cast his eyes over to her and then back at Carl. Anticipating what he was going to remind Carl about, Carrie pulled her seat belt on before curling up on her side, feeling sleepy already.

"Carl," Rick began, adjusting his seat before cracking open a can of energy drink. He took a long, grateful sip.

"What?"

Waiting for the other cars to go ahead, Rick turned on the headlights and watched them go in their usual order. "You know what."

"I'm lying down," Carl protested.

"I don't care," Rick stated. As Carl muttered under his breath while awkwardly putting his seat belt on, Rick pulled out onto the highway and started on their way to the gas station.

"Radio check," came Abraham's voice, beginning their usual routine of checking the signals. When the other cars responded in kind, Rick took his own radio off his belt, pausing before handing it to Carrie, letting her do it on his behalf.

The chore completed, Carrie got comfortable with her pillow and blanket, flicking her hair out so that it dried quickly. Wasting absolutely no time, the group went straight to the gas station and parked in their usual formation. At Rick's request Carrie stayed in the car, and she listened as everyone went about opening up the underground tank and pumping the gas. Though they were generally a well oiled machine, the group worked at top speed to get all five vehicles gassed up. Fully aware of how vulnerable they were, half of them worked while the other half took watch. She took note that when Rick took his turn on watch he stood leaning against their car, keeping watch over she and Carl.

Warm and comfortable, Carrie closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but struggled to relax. She knew she was completely safe, that the whole group was back together and almost ready to hit the road again, but it wasn't that. Just like it had been when she sought refuge in the empty cars earlier that night, it felt too quiet at the moment, making her feel as though the world had stopped. Hanging on to every sound she could hear from her group, Carrie tried to fall asleep, though she suspected it would only be the rumbling of the engine that would allow her to. Thankfully the group stopped after only twenty minutes, a speed which indicted to her that they hadn't quite gassed the vehicles to their full capacity.

When he returned to the car, Rick was surprised to see that she was still awake. "You okay?" he enquired softly, starting up the engine. "Are you warm enough?"

"Yeah," she assured him, shifting around and getting comfortable again.

Glancing into the back, he nodded to himself upon seeing that Carl at least was sleeping soundly. A little over forty minutes since they had found her, the group started onto the wide open road, glad to leave the city of Franklin and its other inhabitants far behind. As she expected, the rumbling of the engine soothed her enough to begin lulling her off to sleep, her body feeling heavy as she started drifting. But in a movement that surprised her enough to almost rouse her, she felt Rick's hand moving to rest on top of hers. She opened her eyes and looked at him, catching the small smile he gave her before looking back at the road.

Hesitating only long enough to check that Carl was definitely fast asleep, she moved their hands over to the centre console where it would be a little more comfortable for him. It was nice feeling the weight of his hand on hers, and even better when he entwined their fingers around one another. Completely content, Carrie was asleep in minutes.


	41. Chapter 41

The group had been travelling for almost twelve hours now, twelve hours in which they had made painfully slow progress. Despite their desire to get far away from Franklin as quickly as possible, they were held back by the removal truck, whose engine was struggling once again. Forced to keep their speed even more conservative than normal, Rick was quickly beginning to reach the end of his tether, frequently finding that he was grinding his teeth in frustration. Having kept count, he knew that it had been seventeen days since they had left Alexandria, and that they had been expected home almost a week ago. Frustrated by the way the days kept slipping by with less progress than he would have liked, he longed for them to be home already, but it seemed the removal truck was going to keep them from that.

When Abraham requested they stop in the town they were now entering, despite still having spare gas in their containers, Rick knew they needed to let the truck rest again. This would be the fourth time since they had left Franklin twelve hours ago. It had been their intention that they spend a few hours working on it before they departed the city, having found enough supplies in Walmart and the nearby mechanic, but their hasty departure meant it had to wait. Despite his desire to continue making progress, Rick was secretly hopeful that they might stop for the night, or for a few hours at least. It would give them time to work on the truck for a while, and he could finally get some sleep.

He was definitely struggling against his tiredness, and he knew he ought not to be driving. He'd managed a few hours of sleep earlier, Aaron having come and taken over for him, but after that he'd been forced to push on. He wasn't the only one who'd been working all day at Walmart and then searching through the night for Carrie…but he was the only one who'd been awake almost the whole night before. Thinking about what he and Carrie had been up to in the ranch house, he glanced at her beside in in the passenger seat.

More exhausted than any of them, Carrie had awoken only once since their departure the night before, and reluctantly at that. He had felt badly for awakening her, but at the time they hadn't intended to stop again for quite a few hours, and he wanted to give her the opportunity to get out while she could. Cheerful at first, Carrie got out and joined Michonne and Rosita when they took watch, but her weariness was quite apparent in her pale face and the stiff way she moved. She had exerted herself significantly the day before, perhaps more than she had in months, and Rick was willing to afford her all the recovery time she needed. When they had continued travelling after pumping gas the first time, Carrie had gone straight back to sleep and stayed that way. Curled up with her pillow and sleeping bag, she slept comfortably, her peacefulness reassuring him that she was going to be alright.

Slowly making their way through the town, they convoy pulled to a stop at the first gas station, Rick feeling the usual sigh of relief as he sat back in his seat. He glanced over at Carrie, unsurprised that she still didn't awaken. Leaving her be for now, he checked their surroundings before turning to Carl in the back seat.

"Wait for us to clear it."

Though he was dying to get out and stretch his legs, Carl obediently nodded and stayed where he was, letting Rick and the others get out first. They quickly cleared the area of Walkers and set up a watch, Michonne taking the lead to manage more Walkers that were approaching now. As soon as he was allowed out, Carl stretched his legs before heading straight over to join Glenn at the under ground gas tank, helping him set up the pumps. Looking around and keeping track of where everyone was and their particular tasks, Rick stood by the car and wondered if he should awaken Carrie.

He opened the trunk of the car and collected a few items, watchfully keeping an eye on Carl as he did so. Placing a bottle of water and a protein bar on the roof go the car, he slowly opened the passenger door and looked in at Carrie. He hated to wake her, especially after her hard night, but she hadn't eaten in hours, and he really ought to give her the opportunity to get out of the car while she had the chance. Crouching down a little, he placed his hand on her knee and said her name, pulling back the top of the blanket when she didn't immediately open her eyes. The cold draught on her neck roused her as he knew it would, having used the technique on Carl many times before. As her hands fumbled to find the top of the blanket, Carrie opened her eyes and looked at him blearily. She blinked a couple of times, realisation dawning on her.

"Hey," she groaned, rubbing her eyes with a long sigh. Still blinking, she sat up and looked around, ascertaining their surroundings. "Gas again?"

"That's right," he confirmed, standing up when he realised his hand was still on her knee. "We're letting the truck rest for a while."

Slowly standing up, she lingered a moment longer, testing her weight on her leg while she gave a long yawn. "What's the time?"

"Just after one o'clock."

"Geez…"

"Here…water, Tylenol," he offered, resisting the urge to brush her hair off her face.

Gratefully taking the medicine, she took a long drink of water and gave a great sigh. Looking around still, she raised her head to the sky and let the hot sun caress her face, seeming to enjoy its warmth. Rick watched her expression in fascination, indulging in the opportunity to drink her in, to be with her even though they were in broad daylight. Thinking about the kiss they had shared that morning, he longed for the opportunity to find another moment of privacy, that he found a reason to seek her out again. Perhaps if they stopped here in this town for the night they'd have some privacy together.

"You look like a sack of shit," she commented brusquely. Taking another sip of water, she frowned and appeared to examine him. "You get any sleep today?"

Rick nodded his head, looking around the station again. "A little."

"So, what's the plan?"

"We might have to stay here for a while," he began, basing his judgement on the foul look Abraham wore as he peered at the removal truck's engine.

"The truck?"

"Yeah. We're all too tired to be driving anyway."

"How far from Alexandria are we?"

"Depending on the truck, we could be there by tomorrow night," he told her hopefully, relishing the thought. He missed Judith terribly, the awful feeling worsening with each passing day.

"Which means we'll get there the morning after," she quipped, looking at him for his reaction.

Shrugging, he couldn't help but agree that their timeline usually didn't run to schedule. Something always came up, something always caused delay, and with the truck struggling it was likely. Letting him close the door behind her, the two of them slowly set off back towards the group. "Tobin's getting you a new knife and machete," he told her, indicating to where Tobin stood in the back of the military truck. "Make sure you get them before we go, alright?"

"I will," she nodded. Using her fingers as a comb, she tidied her hair and pulled out a few knots. "But first I…I have to do something," she said cryptically. Looking back at him, she gave him a small smile. "Thanks for waking me up."

"Sure," he muttered, a little surprised by her sudden departure.

Letting her leave, Rick went and stood by Daryl's side, ignoring the waft of his cigarette. Folding his arms, he watched as she made her way over to where Nicholas was helping with the gas, calling his name. Nicholas looked at her warily, apprehensive about what it was she wanted from him. They had avoided each other when they stopped before, neither of them really knowing what to say. But at Carrie's request, Nicholas left his task and followed her over to one of the cars. Though he couldn't hear what they were saying, it didn't take Rick long to figure out what was going on. Carrie's body language was open and friendly, her expression reassuring as she said something to Nicholas. Their exchange lasted barely thirty seconds, and there was an awkward pause at the end. On the other hand, Nicholas' shoulders went from slumped to straight, his head held high as he extended his hand to Carrie.

Without hesitation, Carrie shook his hand.

"What the hell?" Rick muttered in frustration, standing up straight. He watched as Carrie gave Nicholas another smile, releasing his hand as she said something else. The two of them nodded and then headed in different directions, Nicholas back to the gas tank, and Carrie over to the military truck. "What is she doing?"

Daryl scoffed, answering with his cigarette still between his lips. "Being smart about it, ain't she."

Pausing, Rick considered this comment. With a long sigh, he realised what Carrie was doing, knowing he should have seen this coming. She was smarter than he gave her credit for. She hadn't necessarily forgiven what Nicholas did to her, but rather she was making it her advantage, using the situation strategically.

"Right," Rick nodded to himself.

"Get it now?"

"Yeah. She's making sure Nicholas owes her one."

Daryl scoffed again. "He left her for Walkers…he owes her big time."

Swearing under his breath, Rick watched as Carrie made polite small talk with Tobin, testing the weight of a machete in her hand. He had underestimated her, something which he was certain many people had done in the past. While Rick did everything possible to further alienate himself from Aidan and Nicholas, Carrie was doing the opposite. By forgiving Nicholas when he least deserved it, she made sure he owed her rather than hated her.

"Christ," Daryl cursed, pulling a squashed pack from his pocket and offering it to him. "I can hear your teeth grinding from over here…have a cigarette."

"No thanks," Rick said uncomfortably, not looking at them. "I found my high horse, I'm back on it."

"Suit yourself."

Folding his arms again, Rick looked around their group, glaring at them all as his eyes fell on Carrie again. Having selected a new knife and machete, she was sliding them into new holsters, acting as though the previous day had never happened, as though Aidan and Nicholas hadn't nearly gotten her killed. Twice. Irritated with himself, Rick knew he had definitely underestimated her, that she was more strategic than he realised. This shouldn't annoy him, particularly when strategic moves such as this one had kept her alive for so long, but it did. Not only was she smarter than he gave her credit for, she was smarter than him. Thinking about the differences between the two of them, he figured she probably had a little more room for forgiveness in her heart than he did.

"Fuck it," he growled to himself. Glancing over at Carl, who had his back turned to him, Rick snatched the cigarette from Daryl's fingers and raised it to his lips. Taking a long draw, he held the taste in his mouth before slowly blowing it out, once again feeling the relief it brought. Clearing his throat, he handed the smoke back to Daryl, who just rolled his eyes as he took it back. "You got any gum?" he enquired, suddenly worried about Carl smelling the tobacco on his breath.

"Do I look like I got gum?" Daryl said roughly.

"Right.

"I ain't a 7-11."

"Sorry."

Still annoyed, Rick headed over to the others and started helping with the gas. Keeping busy, he carried the containers to each car and topped them up, trying to enjoy the fresh air and warm sun on his face. While the nights were cold at the moment, the days more than made up for it, and he was beginning to look forward to summer in Alexandria. With any luck it wouldn't be quite as hot and sticky as the summer they endured in the prison, one that prompted even the most timid prison residents to head outside the fences and cool off in the stream. Thinking of the first time he had taken Judith for a swim, Rick focused his thoughts on how close they were to getting home, how much he missed her. Aside from the few days after losing the prison and when he went to Atlanta for Beth, this was really the first time they'd been apart for more than a few hours. If they weren't so busy on this supply run, Rick knew it would have been even harder for him.

Only ten minutes passed before Glenn gave the news that they were scraping the bottom of the tank, that there wasn't enough gas for them there to fill their cars. Having half filled their tanks already, they didn't let it perturb them, knowing there would be at least one other station in this town. There were quite a few Walkers hanging around, but they'd manage making the trip to the next station.

"We're going to have to let the truck rest a while," Abraham informed him solemnly. "Otherwise in a few more miles we're going to have a lump of junk holding half our supplies."

"Do you think we'll be back on the road today?" he asked, watching as everyone regrouped and packed up their equipment.

"Doubtful. By the time we let the engine cool off enough for me to do something with her, we might as well unroll our sleeping bags."

Secretly pleased, Rick just nodded his head. "Let's find another station, fill up, then clear a house."

Abraham shook his head negatively. "I see that as not the best course. I've seen road kill in better shape than you, same goes for Tobin and Rosita. We should clear a house, leave you lot to sleep with a watch, and the rest of us take the gas station."

"It'll take longer with fewer people."

Abraham shrugged. "The pay off is sufficient. The group needs to recover from last night's shit storm."

Though Rick had plenty of arguments to make against the group splitting up, that it was dangerous, that they'd be more vulnerable apart, he found himself nodding in agreement. The thought of curling up somewhere and immediately going to sleep was far too appealing, and he knew when to let Abraham overrule him. The sooner they had more people well rested, the more capable they'd be of looking after themselves in the first place.

"By the way," Abraham began.

Rick sighed, resisting the urge to press his fingers around the bridge of his nose. "God, what now?"

"Daryl has suggested that he hang back a little, that he take a car and hide out near the road we just took into town. He wants to make sure we're definitely not being followed."

Glancing around at him, Rick watched as Daryl and Aaron talked quietly between themselves, perhaps about what Abraham had just brought up. Though there had been no signs that the group they encountered in Franklin had been following them over the last twelve house, it wouldn't hurt for them to be absolutely sure. But it would mean splitting the group into three, and Rick was already reluctant to split into two as it were.

"Do you really think it's necessary?" he enquired, not to shoot him down, but to press him a little.

Abraham nodded, giving his opinion. "Have I ever told you what loose ends do to my ass?"

"Something about itching," he muttered, finally giving into the urge to press his fingers around the bridge of his nose. For some unknown reason, the motion seemed to help. He didn't like what had been suggested, but he did have to admit that being certain they weren't under pursuit would help them all sleep better that night. "Alright."

"Good," Abraham remarked, clapping Rick on the shoulder. "I'll speak to Daryl, make sure he takes someone with him. Get in the car before you fall over."

Doing as he was told, Rick lingered long enough to send Daryl a quick glance, a brief raise of the hand being enough to indicate not only his approval, but his request that he be safe. Needing to just get through the next half hour, he took a deep breath and headed for the Hyundai.

"Let me drive," Carrie called out, catching him as he headed for the driver's side.

Looking up at her Rick hesitated, feeling strangely possessive of the keys in his hands. "Why?"

"Because you're tired," she said impatiently, raising her eyebrows a moment later. "Don't tell me you'e one of those men who hates letting a woman drive."

"No," he said defensively. Proving it, he tossed her the keys and then headed around to the other side. "I've let you drive before," he remarked as he slumped into the passenger seat, for once not being the last to get in the car. Looking around, he caught sight of Michonne and Carl. They were slowly making their way over, apparently in the middle of an intense debate.

"I talked with Nicholas," Carrie informed him, getting in and adjusting her the seat a little.

"I saw." Rick looked at her now, observing her expression. "That was…strategic."

She nodded. "I can't alienate myself from Alexandria before I even get there."

"How would you alienate yourself?"

Carrie raised her eyebrows as though it were obvious. "This isn't one group, Rick…you and I both know that. There's your group, and then there's Alexandria's."

"Yes."

"I can't be on bad terms with them before I even get there…even despite what he did. I'm going to have to work with them if I'm asked to be a supply runner."

"Yes."

"Are you going to apologise?" she enquired curiously. "Kiss and make up with Aidan?"

Laughing shortly, he shook his head. "No."

A few moments passed, Carrie thinking about his refusal. Reaching across, she placed her hand on his leg to get his attention. "Aren't you worried about alienating yourself from them?"

Rick sighed at this, knowing she had a lot to learn about the people of Alexandria. "I'm already alienated from them."

"What did you do?"

"Walked through the front gate."

He didn't need to say anything else, Carrie understanding the weight of what he said. Looking around, he saw that Carl was almost at the car now, and so hastily pushed her hand off his leg. Realising, she took it back with a soft apology, leaving it's place on Rick's leg cold. As Carl and Michonne got into the car, still arguing about something, he yawned and put his head back to close his eyes for a brief moment.

"Dad. Yes or no. Can Werewolves swim?"

"I'm not getting involved."

Michonne sighed, putting on her seatbelt as Carrie began following the other cars out of the gas station. "No, they can't," she stressed. "It depends on whether or not the human can swim."

"All dogs can swim! Therefore a Werewolf can too."

"Not if-"

"Your logic is flawed," Carl argued. "Even Glenn says so."

"Flawed?" she questioned in outrage. "You're calling my logic fla - Two words…Incredible Hulk."

Rick glanced over at Carrie and shared an exasperated smile as the debate escalated. Though he wanted to close his eyes and go straight to sleep, Rick forced himself to stay alert, to keep watch on their surroundings as they made their way through the small town. Taking note of a gas station they passed he kept track of how many Walkers were about, annoyed to find that there were rather quite a few. This would be not so much a problem, but more of a nuisance, particularly if Abraham and Tobin were going to be working on the removal truck later that day. They'd have to carefully choose the house where they stayed, and have some flares ready to fire just in case a few too many came there way.

When Rick brought this up over the radio, Abraham was in agreement, so led their convoy to the other side of the town and decided on a suburb on the outskirts. A fairly new housing development, there were not many trees around, and so they'd have good lines of sight on the surrounding roads. His concern about the group's safety extended to more than the Walkers, for despite how long they had travelled, they were only a few hundred miles from Franklin. Choosing a house with balconies on both the front and back where they could take watch from, they quickly set about clearing the house and yard. In a major boost to the comfort of the home, the inside was free of Walkers, meaning the rooms smelled only of dust.

"Alright, anyone who's been driving this morning needs to take the first sleep. That's you Rick," Abraham said pointedly, supervising the unloading of their essentials. "That's also Tobin and Rosita. Carl and Glenn can take watch. As for the rest of us, Carrie if you're u-"

"I'm up for it," she immediately declared, disregarding what the request might be.

"You're up for pumping gas with us?"

"Sure," she agreed without hesitation, dropping her pack by the front door. "When do we leave?"

"I want asses in seats, ten minutes."

Wanting his group back in one place sooner rather than later, Rick grabbed a couple of packs and helped bring them inside, trying to speed up their plans. Only once he was certain that everyone was organised and Carl was inside the house, he grabbed a bottle of water and threw his pack over his shoulder, wishing the others luck as they prepared to head back out to the gas stations. Finding solitude in one of the smaller bedrooms, Rick dumped his pack and gratefully pulled off his boots and socks, his duty belt following a few moments later. On the road he normally slept fully clothed, boots and all, but today he took a small indulgence. Even going as far as to change his shirt, he slung a clean one over his shoulder and then headed into the attached bathroom to clean up a little. Using bottled water he washed his face and splashed some water over his torso, longingly thinking of the hot shower he would take upon their return to Alexandria. Hell, he was even looking forward to shaving again. Judith's great interest in his facial hair made it a necessity.

Thoroughly brushing his teeth, he ran his fingers through his hair and then shrugged on the clean shirt as he headed back. He wasn't surprised to find that the bedroom he had left empty was now occupied…he had seen Carrie looking his way as the others sent him upstairs, he'd caught the look of mischievousness in her eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him expectantly. Though he raised an eyebrow at her, he wasn't at all displeased that she had followed him. He took notice of the expression on her face, seeing that her cheeks were a little pink.

"Something I can do for you, Carrie?" he asked, putting his things back into his pack. Leaving his water on the bedside table, he removed his watch as he waited for her answer.

"Plenty."

"You'll need to be more specific."

She didn't answer, but reached for him instead. Slipping the tip of her finger into the pocket of his jeans, she tugged gently to make him come over, and he did so happily. No instructions were necessary now, and so he leant down and kissed her. It came as a relief to him, having been thinking about her most of the day.

"Did you see where Carl is?"

"He's helping unpack food," she answered. "The door's locked," she added.

With a soft groan, Rick figured what she was getting at with her last remark, the way her hand drifted to the button on his jeans confirming it. It didn't take much to get him in the mood…hell, he'd been halfway there the entire day, forced to sit next to her sleeping form in the car. It was difficult to not look over at her as he drove, to not observe her. But there wasn't time, and knowing Carl he'd be looking for him any minute now, he was willing to indulge her only for a short while. Brushing her hands away from his belt, he shook his head negatively.

"There's not enough time for that," he apologised, softening his rejection with another kiss.

"One minute," she bargained. Not waiting for his response, she shuffled back on the bed and prompted him to follow.

Remembering the last time she had bargained for one minute, in the minivan the morning after the herd, Rick happily met her halfway. "One minute might be all it takes. For me anyway."

Carrie chuckled at his self-derision, her knees automatically parted as she pulled him down. Beginning to be well rehearsed in this, he carefully settled his weight atop her before sweeping her into a deep, lush kiss, pleased to hear her moan of delight against his lips. Everything that had happened last night, the stress, the fear…it all vanished for a short while. It was easy to become lost in her, to let the world outside fade away into the background. Indulging himself, he thought of very little other than her, on the way her skin broke out into gooseflesh when he slipped his hand under her shirt. Brushing his tongue against hers he gave a low moan, kissing her a little more forcefully now. She tasted sweet and salty at the same time, the combination making it difficult to stop.

"Peanut butter?" he finally enquired, letting her catch her breath. He pressed his lips to her throat instead, feeling it rumble when she spoke.

"A protein bar." Her hands leisurely wound themselves around his neck as she pulled back from him a little, peering at him in suspicion. "And either you've been making out with Daryl…or you've been smoking."

Avoiding her eyes, Rick pressed his lips up her jaw, the tip of his tongue tracing the curve of her ear. "You caught me," he whispered. "Daryl and I…it's serious."

A laugh bursting past her lips, Carrie tightened her arms around his neck, returning her lips to his. "Liar."

"It was one puff," he confessed.

"Liar," she accused again. "I could taste it earlier too…at the real estate office."

"Fine…two puffs."

"I thought you didn't approve of smoking?"

"I don't," he growled, sealing his lips over hers again. Mindful of the cut on her head, he stroked his fingers over her hair, pushing it off her face just as she pressed her hips up against his. Gritting his teeth he returned the motion for just a moment before forcing himself to pull away. He was half hard already, and couldn't afford to let them go any further, and so moved his hand to hold her hip down. "I deserved it. It was my first smoke in nearly twenty years. Which makes me sound a lot older than I really am."

Carrie laughed at this, but when she reached for his jeans yet again Rick knew he had to put some space between them. She was slowly chipping away at his self-control, and he feared she would wear him down if he let her continue. With a reluctant sigh he moved away and slumped down on the bed beside her, looking up at the ceiling with a long sigh. That minute really had been too short.

"Twenty years ago, I was stuffing my Kleenex down my bra."

Smiling to himself, he glanced over at her. "Not any more."

She grinned, chuckling as she too glanced down at her breasts. There was a short, but comfortable silence now, the reprieve giving Rick time to get himself under control. Thankfully Carrie didn't try anything else, although he had to admit that her eagerness for him was quite the ego boost, and he wished he didn't have to turn her down.

"So tonight," she began, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look down at him. "Will we all sleep in the living room like normal?"

"That depends how cold it is," he answered. His hand was itching to reach out and touch hers, an innocent gesture which he resisted. "But probably, yes."

"Maybe you and I could keep watch from one of the bedrooms…behind a locked door."

Knowing exactly what she was getting at, Rick gave a small smile and nodded. "I'm sure we can make it work."

"Good."

She reached over for him again, her hand moving towards his stomach, but he caught it in his. "That's not going to help me right now. Save it for watch."

"I hate your self-control," she grumbled, reluctantly doing as she was told.

As if on cue, the bedroom door suddenly rattled, reaffirming the notion that fooling around right now wasn't a good idea. Immensely grateful that Carrie had locked it, he immediately sat up and started fastening the buttons on his shirt.

"What?" he called out.

"It's me," Carl called out, rattling the door handle. "Let me in."

Getting up, Rick watched as Carrie hastily smoothed out the bed covers before looking himself up and down, making sure he was presentable. As Carrie sat down and fixed an expression of mild boredom on her face, Rick unlocked the door and opened it wide, letting Carl come in.

"Hey," he said shortly, coming straight in. "I'm here to take…" He slowly trailed off, his face falling when he saw Carrie sitting on the bed. Awkwardly hovering with his crutches, he looked to Rick. "What's going on?"

"We were having a private conversation," he said sternly.

"Oh," Carl said, his body language relaxing a moment later. "Sorry. I'm here to take watch from the balcony. Abraham wanted me to tell you he's leaving."

"Oh, shit," Carrie cursed, getting to her feet. "I gotta go."

Hiding his disappointment, Rick just nodded. "Be safe out there."

"We can talk later," she said, playing along as she swept past the both of them. "See you, Carl."

"See you," he said, watching her go.

Closing the door behind her, Rick carried on as though nothing was amiss. Unbuttoning his shirt again, he shrugged it off his shoulders and tossed it on the end of the bed. Pulling back the blankets, he glanced over at Carl who hadn't moved.

"What?"

"What were you two talking about?" he asked. His tone was curious rather than accusatory, but Rick could still hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"Nicholas," he answered, knowing that would be sufficient to explain the private nature of the conversation. "That alright with you?"

Putting Carl on the defensive seemed to work, making him feel chastised for his nosiness. "Glenn's taking watch with me," he said, heading for the balcony.

Confident that his lie had been accepted, Rick took off his other belt and then sank down onto the bed, immediately groaning with how good it felt to lay down. Having briefly forgotten about it, his exhaustion came back in full force, his limbs heavy as he pulled the blankets up and got warm and comfortable. Sleeping in a stranger's bed had stopped feeling strange a long time ago, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep right as Carl interrupted him for a second time. Opening the balcony door and looking back inside, Carl called out his enquiry.

"Seriously, Dad. Can Werewolves swim?"

* * *

Not even twenty four hours later, the group found itself at a stand still yet again.

The day before had seen Abraham and Tobin working on the removal truck, starting from the very basics to try and identify the root cause of the over heating. While Glenn and Daryl hovered near by and Carl watched from the top of the military truck, they drained and replaced the coolant before turning their attention to various hoses and fans, debating the merits of trying to replace them too. Having managed to sleep for a while, Rick took watch for them, knowing he wouldn't be of much assistance anyway, and when Abraham declared the truck "good enough", they were all confident that the damn thing would stop holding them up so much.

They were wrong, of course.

Things looked good when they set off the following morning, but they only made it thirty minutes before the temperature gauge started rising, and another thirty minutes before Abraham decided they needed to stop and let it cool for a while. With the hood open, the group of twelve hung around in the middle of no where, and throughout the rest of the day they travelled in the same fashion. They drove for a while before stopping again, incrementally covering ground until they started spending more time at a stop than moving. It didn't take long for their frustration to boil over, and by the time they finally made it to the next town a mere sixty miles away from where they started, Rick was seriously pissed off. As they approached the town he reluctantly made the call that everyone had been waiting for, that they were going to abandon the removal truck all together.

"We might as well make some lemonade," Tobin joked over the radio.

"What does that mean?" Carl enquired, frowning as he concentrating on driving past a couple of Walkers.

"That it's a lemon," Rick answered. Glaring at the world, he carefully scrutinised the suburban streets they drove through, knowing they would need another place to stay for the night. Abandoning the truck didn't mean abandoning their supplies.

"What does that mean?"

"Have I taught you nothing?"

"Looks that way."

"If a car's a lemon, it means it's a heap of junk. Like my first pick up…"

Carl laughed at this, remembering the stories of that. "We're going to find another truck then?"

"We'll have to."

"Can't we just leave the supplies and come back for them?"

"We could," he nodded in agreement. "But that's taking a big risk."

"Because of the other group back in Franklin?" Carl enquired. "It doesn't look like they're following us though."

"No, they're not," he agreed with this observation. The previous day Daryl and Aaron had hung back on the road they had taken into the town, and while the rest of their group either slept or pumped gas, they spent three hours watching and waiting, confirming for sure that the group they encountered had not followed them. "But if we leave the supplies behind, it just means we have to come back for them. It's better to make the effort now, than to risk another extended supply run."

"Fair enough," Carl nodded, agreeing with this explanation.

As the convoy ahead began slowing to a stop, Rick picked up the radio, not liking the amount of Walkers hanging around. "Let's keep going. This street's a little crowded."

"Yeah…" Abraham said slowly. "That's a negative. We're stopping here."

"I said keep going. We'll find somewhere else."

"Unless you want to get out and Fred Flintstone this thing, this truck is staying right here."

Sighing to himself, Rick leant over and peered at the removal truck ahead, seeing copious amounts of smoke pouring from the engine. "You could have just led with that," he said, hearing Michonne sitting up in the back seat. Yawning, she looked around for a moment before catching up, not needing to be told what to do next. "Carl, yo-"

"Stay in the car," he cut him off, killing the engine and looking at Rick in exasperation. "Hurry up, I gotta take a leak."

Before the Walkers could crowd too much, the group swiftly got out of their cars and promptly fell into formation. There were plenty of them to take down, reaffirming Rick's preference that they not stop there, but as usual they had little choice in the matter. Simply going about it, they used their knives and machete's as much as possible, Rick pleased to hear only the occasional shot that came from those with silencers fitted to their gun. He glanced over in Carrie's direction more than he ought to, though he was reassured to see her staying close by Glenn's side, sticking to the formation unlike she did when they retook the prison.

It took only a few minutes for them to clear out the majority of the Walkers, leaving them with only a dozen or so stragglers that continued approaching from the side streets. While Abraham and Tobin climbed into the military truck to survey the area from up high, the rest of them fell out of formation and spread down the street, taking the Walkers down with relative ease. It was during that minute or so that Rick had a thought he almost immediately regretted, one that represented a part of himself he didn't like. From the corner of his eye he saw a Walker approaching Aidan from behind, almost certainly about to take him unaware, and in that moment he felt a brief flicker of hope. In his mind's eye he pictured the Walker reaching Aidan and taking him down, feeling glad that he wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

Even though his instinct was to take down the Walker…Rick hesitated instead.

He didn't blame himself for allowing these thoughts to cross his mind, particularly given the impact Aidan's incompetency had on Carrie, and the way he still seemed suspicious about what had happened the morning after they returned from leading the herd away. But he did feel particularly shameful for the hopefulness he experienced in that moment, for the feeling of gladness he had about potentially not having to deal with Aidan anymore. Acting on pure reflex, Rick automatically stepped in and dealt with the Walker sneaking up on Deanna's eldest son, channelling his frustrations with the man into the rotting skull instead.

When Aidan turned around and saw what had been behind him, his eyes widened in surprise. Though he nodded and thanked Rick before heading off to the next Walker, Rick couldn't help but wonder if Aidan really understood how close he had come to death, both from the Walker and Rick's moment of hesitation. Trying to put that type of thought right out of his mind, he quickly coordinated everyone to block off each end of the street, affording themselves some extra protection in anticipation of being outside a great deal for the rest of the afternoon.

Wasting time only to outline the logistics, the group split into two yet again, half staying behind while the others set out in the minivan to find a replacement vehicle, Rick's only stipulation being that it was something that ran. They were only a few hundred miles from Alexandria…they could have been there that night if they weren't dealing with mechanical problems. A part of him wanted to throw Carl into the car and drive him home, or to beg and plead with Glenn to do it for him…the closer they got, the more anxious he felt.

It was no wonder he was constantly thinking about Carrie right now, that he was squashing down anxious frustration and replacing it with sexual tension. Carrie was proving to be a more than welcome distraction from the world, their activities together giving him something else to think about and focus on. And yet his relief from frustration was causing him just as much. It wasn't Carrie, she was fantastic…but the difficulty in being with her only worsened his frustrations.

Their plans to take 'watch' together the previous night were thwarted of course, as though the world were mocking Rick for even thinking he might be lucky enough to sneak off again during the night. He finished the first watch shift with every intention of awakening Carrie so they could head for one of the empty bedrooms upstairs, but instinct had told him to check on Carl first. It was a good thing he did. Within minutes of laying down beside his son on the pretence of going to sleep, Rick knew something wasn't right. He listened to Carl sigh and squirm for fifteen minutes before awakening, fifteen minutes he spent selfishly hoping he didn't ruin his plans by getting sick.

That hope went out the window rather quickly. Soon after awakening, Carl grimaced as Rick helped him to his feet, and he was bent over double as they headed into the kitchen. Just as Rick wondered what they had that might settle his stomach, Carl promptly began puking into the sink. From that moment it became second nature for Rick to put his own needs aside, to focus on Carl and help him feel better. When he was finally done puking, Carl stood with his head resting on the kitchen bench, a cold sweat breaking out across his neck as Rick washed away the mess. Fearing that it might be the stomach flu and not just something he ate, Rick promptly separated Carl from the others.

In the end, Rick did spend the night sleeping with someone in one of the empty bedrooms…just not the person he wanted to.

All was not lost though, and with the necessity of laying low yet again came the opportunity to be alone with Carrie. It wouldn't come easy though, particularly with the instinct to stay close to Carl, to keep his eye on him. That afternoon, after they brought back a larger and newer truck to replace the lemon, the group worked hard to move the contents from one to the other. With Carl taking watch from the top of the military truck, Rick had been able to look at Carrie as much as he dared to around the others. He took the opportunity to its fullest extent, enjoying every moment when she bent over to pick up something or when she reached up high. It wasn't lost on him that she was doing the same in return, that her eyes were cast over his body more than necessary. Smiling to himself, Rick remembered the jolt he felt when Carrie had pinched his ass as he walked past her. He'd stumbled in surprise, nearly dropping the box he was carrying. No one else noticed, and when he looked back at her in astonishment she just winked, the corner of her mouth twitching as she tried to hold back a smile.

For the large part they managed to concentrate on their work, knowing how essential it was that they be ready for the following day. They had a near new truck that would hold almost twice as much as the former, and though it would take significantly more gasoline, at least they would be moving at a decent speed once again. Working hard, the group were finished only an hour after darkness fell, a quiet cheer erupting when Tobin lowered the roller door and secured it shut. Exhausted but satisfied, the group retreated inside and began to settle in for the night, setting up their sleeping bags by the burning fireplace. Carl, having volunteered to take the second watch shift starting at midnight, ate early and then retreated into his sleeping bag to get a little shut eye.

With Carl going to sleep early, Rick took advantage of the opportunity to get Carrie alone, although knowing he could only steal her for a few minutes or so. Waiting until everyone else was occupied, he caught her eye and gestured towards the stairs, making sure she knew what he meant. Quietly heading up to the first floor, he waited on the landing for her, glad when she joined him less than a minute later. They didn't speak at first, and there was no doubt about what it was they were both dying to do. Stepping away from the landing so no one could see them, they stood alone in the dark hallway and kissed feverishly, having been awaiting this moment since last night.

"This is really becoming a problem," he panted against her lips, carefully cradling the back of her head as he backed her up against the wall.

"What? This?" Bolding cupping the front of his jeans, she chuckled when he hissed between his teeth. "Yeah it's a problem…when can we do something about it?"

"Tonight," he promised her, pushing her hand away before gave him a more immediate problem. "I've got first watch until midnight, then Carl's on watch until four."

"Okay?"

"I'll wake you when he's gone to sleep. Maybe five o'clock."

"Mmmm, morning sex. Best way to start the day."

Thoroughly agreeing, Rick swept his lips across hers once again, enjoying the way she clung to him, the soft moans she made in the back of her throat. It was reaffirming to know that she wanted this as much as he did, that despite the way she acted completely normal, she wasn't totally unaffected by him. They kissed until they heard loud footsteps on the stairs, but he didn't completely pull away. It was only Daryl…how did he always know where Rick and Carrie were? How did he always know to ensure his approach was audible?

"I'm taking watch out back," Daryl grunted, lighting his cigarette as he walked past them. "There's a balcony off the bedroom."

Rick nodded, fixing Carrie's hair. "Alright."

"You takin' watch too?" he asked next. Rather than ignoring them, Daryl stood in the threshold of the bedroom and looked at Rick expectantly.

Rick stepped back and looked around at Daryl. "Yeah, I'll be out front with Tobin."

"Right," he grunted, disappearing a second later.

With Daryl gone, Rick was determined to take one last moment with Carrie. Wanting to make her weak at the knees, he stepped forward to kiss her with everything he had, but Daryl was having none of it.

"You taking watch or not?" he asked, reappearing.

Knowing when to give up, Rick stepped back yet again, amused by the exasperated look on Carrie's face. "Yeah," he muttered, turning away from her and heading to the stairs. "I'm taking watch, settle down."

Annoyed with Daryl, who until now could be counted upon to see and hear nothing, Rick descended the stairs and looked in on Carl. With his son fast asleep already, he grabbed himself a few things and got ready for the first watch shift. Letting Tobin go out ahead with food for them to eat, Rick hung back and made some coffee, knowing that they'd be needing it, himself especially. Adding sugar and milk to Tobin's, he slapped the lids on and then made his farewells, ascertaining who that it would be Michonne with Carl for the second shift. With the rifle slung around his shoulder, Rick headed for the front door, seeing Carrie in the hallway as he went.

"Have a good night," she said politely.

"You too," he replied, hiding his smile.

Looking forward to five o'clock when he'd be waking her up, he walked past her without a second thought. He should have known better, and the moment he walked past she pinched him on the ass, his surprised jolt nearly making him trip over his own feet. He looked back at her with every intention of playfully telling to keep her hands to herself, but on the pretence of playing innocent, she just smiled at him. Forgetting what he was going to say, he gaped for a moment before shaking his head to himself. Wondering how the hell he was going to handle her, he stepped out into the night and spent the next few hours looking forward to when he'd wake her later in the morning.

* * *

A/N Holy crap, it's the mid season premiere! Good luck everyone, and may your favourite character make it through unscathed. I want to see Porch Dick Jr I and Porch Dick Jr II torn apart!


	42. Chapter 42

Just as he promised, Rick awoke her in the early hours of the following morning. Rousing when she felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder, Carrie slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes, pleased to see him crouched down beside her. She smiled in relief, her sleep that night having been rather poor given how much she was looking forward to their time together. The previous night had been dead in the water thanks to Carl coming down ill, her frustrations worsened only by the day spent flirting and teasing one another. Taking his hand when offered, she got to her feet and let him navigate her through the living room, his eyes having had time to adjust already.

They entered the hallway, but instead of taking her upstairs as she expected, he passed over her boots and indicated she should put them on. Going with the flow, she crouched down and fastened the laces before slipping her jacket on next. Standing there in the dark hallway Rick hovered right in front of her, his hands brushing down her sides and lowering to her leg. Just as she thought he was getting started already she realised he was checking for her gun, making sure there was a magazine loaded too. Satisfied that there was, he produced a small revolver out of nowhere and tucked it into the back of her jeans, next slipping the rounds into her pocket. He did all of this in the dark, using touch to find his way around her body while his lips hovered close to hers.

"Will I need my knife?" she enquired.

Answering her question, he produced her knife holster and clipped it into place on her belt. Not questioning how he managed to find it in her pack in the middle of the night, she closed her eyes as she felt his fingers lingering on her hip, slipping under her shirt and jacket to brush against her skin. If this was foreplay then it was excellent, Carrie enjoying every touch of his fingers. She suspected that she if needed her weapons they must be going outside, but she didn't try to question him just yet, worried about how far her whispers would carry into the silent living room. Rick finally finished by slipping a small flashlight into her pocket and then clipping a radio to her belt.

He kissed her now, the hunger he felt clear when he pressed his hips against hers. Feeling that he was at least half hard already only made her own desire more urgent, and so she broke their kiss to hurry him along. Having everything they needed, he slipped his hand into hers and led her down the hallway. Though she trusted him immensely, his judgement in particular, she couldn't help but feel nervous when they went outside into the darkness, and she wondered where he was going to take them. Following him down the front path and onto the street, they passed the military truck where Rick gave a low whistle, catching the attention of those on watch. Carrie chuckled when Glenn returned the whistle, he and Rosita seated side by side atop the military truck. It seemed Glenn was a good guy to have around when you needed a favour.

"How much do you owe them for this?" she asked quietly, keeping her wits about her. The street was silent, and there was not a Walker in sight.

"Not a thing," he muttered softly. "I'm calling in favours Glenn still owes me for the times he and Maggie snuck off…he's going to be in my debt for a while."

She chuckled at this, a slight breeze making a plastic bottle roll down the road. She was reminded of two nights ago when she had been on her own in Franklin, making her feel a little uncertain of herself. Though they had their flashlights, the shadows loomed up at them as they walked, and with that in mind she held Rick's hand a little tighter, moving closer to his side. Though she'd always been a fiercely independent woman, she wouldn't deny that she felt safer by his side.

"How far are we going?" she asked.

"Just around the corner up here. I cleared a house earlier."

"Ah, forward planning. I like that in a man."

Having looked back at her, his voice trailed off while his eyes slid down to her front. She had opened her jacket and popped a few buttons on her shirt, and there was just enough light for him to see her by. Carrie forced herself to contain a burst of laughter, amused by the predictable way Rick's eyes roamed across her cleavage, his lips parting in pleasant surprise. Bit by bit she was figuring him out, realising he was all too easy. He seemed to give a silent groan, his jaw flexing as he looked back at where he was going.

The walked a few blocks and then turned around a corner, the rows of little houses looking particularly sinister in the darkness. Enjoying the way he held her hand, she started grinning stupidly, excited to be alone with him again. He was bringing out a side of her she hadn't felt for a long time, a side that made her remember what it was like to enjoy life, to enjoy the notion of being with a man again. After what had happened to her in the past she really hadn't expected that have this again, and the opportunity spurred her on to reach out and make the most of it.

"Did you drive one like that?" she asked, directing her flashlight at a Police car they passed. Aside from a crumpled rear bumper it looked to be in fairly good condition.

"Exactly like that," he nodded. "Ford Crown Victoria."

"God, I wish you had your Sheriff's uniform."

"Just wait until we get back to Alexandria."

"Ah, that's right. Constable Derrick Grimes, am I correct?"

Jilted by the use of his name, he narrowed his eyes at her. "You'll have to watch your step if I'm on duty." Finally reaching the house, Rick paused long enough to check that the front porch and surroundings were clear and safe. Taking out his flashlight and knife, he gestured for her to do the same before reaching for the front door's handle. "We'll need to clear it again."

Taking out her own knife and flashlight, she followed his lead as they entered the house and closed the door behind them, glad that it consisted of a relatively simple layout. Being safe, they checked every room in the single story house, finding it was blissfully empty and awaiting their arrival. Concluding that it was safe, Rick strode past her, his hand brushing her waist, and locked the front door. Though Walkers couldn't open a knob handle, the lock made them both feel a little more secure. Following his lead again, she let him take her hand and lead her down the hallway, the two of them entering a bedroom at the back of the house.

He closed the door behind them, and before he could say anything she was draping her arms around his shoulders, her fingers entwined in his hair as she kissed him. Not having the patience for a slow and languid kiss, she wasted no time by coaxing him into it. Kissing him deeply, she delighted in the strained moan he gave, in the way his hands reached for her hips and roughly pulled them against his own. There was a distinct sense of urgency, Carrie wanting to get at him without wasting another second, but it seemed Rick had other plans.

Dragging himself away and thinking for a moment, he gestured to her weapons "Give me those," he panted, setting his flashlight on the chest of drawers.

Liking how responsible and level headed he always seemed, she unclipped her gun and holster and then passed it to him, letting him lay it out on the chest of drawers alongside the flashlight. The spare revolver he had tucked into the back of her jeans, her knife and machete followed next, Rick simply taking what she passed him and setting them out. Completely disarmed, Carrie slowly stepped back from him, watching as he started about the same process with his own weapons. She kicked off her boots and nudged them aside, watching him and waiting for him to look up.

Dropping her jacket, she whistled to get his attention as she began unbuttoning her shirt, enjoying the startled look that crossed his face. It was quickly replaced by a smile, one that grew as he watched her shrug her shirt off her shoulders to the floor. He stood still as he watched her, his fingers poised on the buckle of his duty belt while she opened her jeans and pushed them down. This too got the reaction she wanted, seeing the way he shifted his feet as he looked down her long legs.

"Come on," she prompted him impatiently, though she loved the way he was looking at her.

Jolted back to it, he barely managed to contain his approval as he removed his duty belt with haste, ditching his knives and machete before following her over to the bed. While he hastily divested himself of his jacket and shirt Carrie's hands dove for his belt buckle, annoyed that he always wore two of the damn things. It only made getting at him more difficult.

The back of her legs hit the bed, and the slight unsteadiness from her left leg made her sit down on it. Trying not to aggravate the bruise, she tugged on the front of Rick's jeans as she moved backwards on the bed, making him follow her eagerly. Just like he had the other night at the underground bunker, he hovered over her and then gently settled on top of her, pressing their hips together with a short grunt. Glad for the security of a familiar position, she tugged him closer and then brought her lips to his, taking him in a searing kiss. Desire for him only grew with his kiss, the sensation of his tongue coaxing her to open her mouth making her heart race. Eagerly letting him deepen the kiss, she smiled as she felt him sliding his hand up her stomach to pull down the cup of her bra.

"You always been a tits man?"

"Can you blame me?" he answered with a question, glancing up at her as he moved his hand around to her back.

He fumbled with the clasp, but unlike the other night he got it open this time, looking rather pleased with himself as he removed the garment and tossed it aside. Rewarding both of them for his success, he began laving attention on her breasts, his tongue drawing a gasp from her. Squirming underneath him, she reached down as best she could and tried to reach for his jeans, wanting to get started immediately. Though she knew no one would come looking for them, it still felt like they might be caught in the act at any moment, this feeling worsening when she couldn't properly reach his belt. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she grasped a handful of his hair and pulled his head up.

"Impatient, are you?" he smirked, kissing her slowly.

"Yes," she hissed, pressing her teeth around his top lip to drive her impatience home.

Though she ached to feel his weight pressed against her body the way it was, she pushed against his shoulder and wriggled her hips. He got the message quickly enough, and he rose up just far enough to start divesting himself of his jeans while she ditched her underwear. Standing up for a moment, he kicked the last of his clothing off before reaching down and searching through his pockets, tossing a chain of five condoms onto the bed beside her. Returning to the bed, he started kissing her thigh until his eyes fell on something that caught his interest.

"Oh," he gasped in awe, looking at something above the bed. "Atlanta Braves…"

"Hey!" Carrie protested, playfully smacking the side of his head. "Naked woman, right in front of you!"

"Sorry," he apologised hastily, turning his attention back to her.

"Don't make me put my pants back on."

"Hey now," he said smoothly, moving up the bed at her request. "Don't say terrible things like that."

Leaving her teasing at that, she quickly set about arranging the pillows on the stranger's bed, knowing exactly how she wanted to have him. Catching on, he helped her move across to straddle his lap, though he was easily distracted as he kept trying to kiss her, his hands constantly reaching for her breasts. Putting a pillow beneath her bruised leg, she quickly got comfortable and then cupped his face in her hands, making him look at her. Wanting to see his reaction, she pressed her hips closer to his and then rubbed herself along the length of his erection, loving the expression that crossed his face. His hands around her waist tightened, his breath escaping his lips in a low hiss as he rocked up against her, seeking more. Repeating the motion, they resumed their former kiss while his hands roamed over her body, and Carrie loved the way he revered her while allowing her to do the same in return.

"Rick, wait," she managed to gasp, feeling him pushing inside her. Though her body screamed at her to let him, to sink down on him and take him for all he had, her brain screamed to remind her what they forgot. "Condom."

"Shit." Pushing her hips up a little he pulled out, leaving her body yearning for him again. "Sorry."

"Just hurry up."

Her voice was a plea, echoing the haste in which he fumbled around the bed for the chain of foil squares while she waited impatiently. Finally he was pushing into her again, his hands on her hips holding her steady as he slid inside with a short grunt of satisfaction. There was a short pause as he waited to feel her relax, and she was grateful for his patience, her arms and legs still sore from the other night in Franklin. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling too exposed even though she had wanted intimacy with him. There was a long pause as they held still, their hot breaths feeling louder than normal in the silence of the night. His hands tenderly rubbed her lower back for a few moments, their path drifting down to her ass where his fingers firmly squeezed. Unable to wait any longer, he used his hands to rock her against him, the movements agonisingly slow as she released the breath she had been holding.

Feeling his mouth running along her jaw, she realised he was searching for her lips, his breaths coming in short puffs. Giving him the kiss he sought, she grasped the headboard behind him and matched the pace he set, letting his hands bring her up and down in his lap. No longer wanting to rush they simply enjoyed one another at leisure, sticking to the languid pace that let them slowly build up. Moving her lips down his neck she lingered on the base of his throat, feeling the distinct rumble as he groaned loudly, his hands tightening on her hips. He swore under his breath, the sound of his enjoyment only furthering hers. Wanting to see his face, she brought her lips back to his for a brief kiss before watching him. She smiled to see that he was watching her too, his features tense as he tried to keep himself controlled, to maintain the steady pace that was working. As she quivered, Carrie's stomach tightened as her eyes began to close, but not before catching brief movement outside the bedroom window. She groaned lowly, but not from enjoyment.

"Rick," she panted. Her movements slowed, despite his confused attempt to keep her going. "Rick."

"What?" he frowned. He looked over his shoulder to follow her gaze, his shoulders slumping. The shadows flickered for a moment before they reappeared with a loud thud, the Walker reaching the window. "Christ…"

"I know," she muttered, disheartened by the interruption. Hell, this was the second time they'd been interrupted by an uninvited visitor at the bedroom window.

"It's just one," he rushed to assure her, trying to salvage the mood. "Don't worry about it, Baby."

It took her a moment to realise what he had said, and before she could stop it a small laugh erupted from her mouth. "Baby?" she questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

He echoed her laugh, resting his forehead against hers. "Sorry," he apologised in embarrassment. "Slipped out…"

Still laughing at him, she looked at the window apprehensively, able to see the Walker rather clearly. With one eye and half of its lower jaw missing, the dead face pressed against the opposite window did little to help put her back in the mood.

"Carrie," Rick said sharply, turning her face back to his. He looked her in the eye, his gaze commanding her complete attention. "Don't worry about it. Look at me."

Suspecting he would reward her well, she did as she was told. Ignoring the sound of the Walker clawing at the window, she focused her attention on him instead, her forehead resting against his. Getting straight back to the point he claimed her mouth with his, sucking on her lips and barely letting her draw breath. He started moving again and she happily let him lead, loving how commanding he was. He wasn't rough, but he took what he wanted needed, and made no apologies. After all, it was willingly offered for his taking.

As if he had heard these thoughts, Rick slowed to a stop and then soothed her protests with a slow kiss. His arms around her, he pulled out of her and then slowly shuffled them around to face the other way, letting her sink back onto him once they were settled.

"Lean back," he instructed, his rasping voice making him shiver. He brushed his lips over each of her breasts before repeating his instructions. "Lean back against the headboard."

His request was forceful, his hands reiterating the request, but she didn't _feel_ forced. It was an important distinction to make, particularly for her, and it was one that allowed her to maintain the complete trust she had in him. She loved that he asked for what he wanted, that just like her he didn't play games or leave her wondering. Happy to do so, she glanced over her shoulder and carefully leant back, her palms resting on the headboard behind her.

"Oh my God," she whimpered, her teeth clenched as he began thrusting from beneath her again. The strange angle reignited her arousal that the Walker's arrival had dampened, Rick's slow thrusts reaching all the right places. The muscles in her arms strained to reach back, and her leg was aching already, but there was no way she was stopping him.

"Good?"

"Yes," she ground out, looking at him. "Keep going, just like that."

Weakened by the sensations building with every thrust she tried to meet, Carrie stretched further back, resting her forearms on the headboard and letting them bear her weight now. Her hair cascading behind her, the stretch of her torso made her feel like she was on complete display for Rick, which she supposed she was. She uttered a near constant string of encouragement to him, not caring how loud they were, and she was echoed by his ragged groans of enjoyment.

Letting her eyes drift shut, she clamped her teeth on her bottom lip as she felt his hand gliding over her stomach. He paused at her naval, his fingers toying with the silver piercing before disappearing again. She waited with bated breath for his hand to return, knowing where she wanted it, where she needed it most…but tongue tied now, she could only pray he figured it out. As perspiration broke out across her skin, he finally brought his hand down to where they were joined, his thumb circling her clitoris before gently swiping across it. Vocally making her approval known, she shuddered as she sped up their pace, needing more of him all at once. Finally she tensed as she came with a sob of relief, grinding down against him as she gasped his name. Her body trembled as he continued thrusting inside her, his movements becoming faster until he too came with a loud shout. Gasping for breath, Carrie had just enough wits left to raise her head and watch him, hearing her name hissing through his teeth as his features softened with unexpected vulnerability.

Rick looked at her with wide eyes now, his chest heaving for breath as he reached a shaking hand out towards her. Understanding what he needed, for she needed the exact same thing, she pushed herself back up and let him draw her close. Settling back onto his lap, she let him hold her gently as long, comfortable moments of silence passed. Both of them thoroughly exhausted, they kissed gently, feeling one another's heart rate and breathing begin to slow. Shaking, he pressed his lips to the damp skin of her forehead, then allowed his head to fall against her neck as he gently pulled himself out of her. She grimaced a little as he did this, wishing that he wouldn't…she enjoyed the feeling of him inside her, liking how deeply intimate it was.

With a content sigh he brought her with him as he lay down, his chest still heaving as he coaxed her to lay against his side before roughly throwing the dusty blankets over them. Stroking his hair and feeling his rough beard against her cheek, she tried to squash down a pang of longing that she suddenly felt. Though he was right there with her, though they'd just had sex, she still longed for more of him.

She quickly scolded herself for this feeling, knowing she shouldn't be letting herself dwell on that…instead she pressed a kiss to his jaw, glad when he lowered his head and kissed her properly. He kissed her sweetly until they ran out of breath again, still recovering. While Rick stretched back and closed his eyes for a moment, Carrie glanced over at the Walker that was still clawing at the bedroom window, smearing it's blood and gore across the glass. With a slight frown, she narrowed her eyes at it, not sure if the dim light was tricking her.

She's never seen a Walker with a W on it's forehead before.

* * *

Comfortably sprawled out on a complete stranger's bed, Rick rested with his head against the mass of pillows, feeling satisfied and more relaxed than he had in days. Fighting the need to close his eyes and go to sleep, Rick watched Carrie fondly, amused that she appeared to have stopped fighting her own desire to sleep. She lay beside him but facing the other way, her legs resting in his lap, her features at ease while she breathed slowly. Having more than exerted herself, Rick was happy to let her rest, although he got the feeling that she wasn't quite asleep, that if he spoke her name she'd open her eyes. As though she had heard his thoughts, Carrie awoke with a long sigh. He waited patiently as her eyes flickered open and then darted over to him, her lips curving into a smile.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey."

There was a long, comfortable silence now, the two of them looking at each other without a worry in the world. But as it always did, the world outside broke in and interrupted them. The Walker that had nearly killed the mood was still there, still pressed against the bedroom window, although a little less active now that they had stopped moving. Remembering it, Carrie titled her head up and looked at it in exasperation.

"Don't look at it," he reminded her softly, running his hand down her calf. He smoothed his palm over her bare foot now, gently rubbing the arch.

She looked back at him instead, and despite the way the Walker fired up again now that it had seen her moving, she appeared to forget about it. "Still rubbing my feet?" she enquired, flexing them a little.

"You deserve it," he praised, dragging his thumb along the side of her foot.

When they had stood up to redress, he'd noticed the way she stood shakily on her leg, seeing the bruise on her left shin that hadn't been there before…she must have gotten it that night in Franklin. Telling her to leave off her jeans for now, they lazily settled back down onto the bed and he'd happily started massaging her leg and foot, carefully avoiding the injury. Using his other hand now, he simultaneously ran his thumbs underneath each of her arches, taking note that the blisters on her foot had properly healed.

Sitting up properly, Carrie appeared to observe him for a few moments before she moved up to sit by his side. Her approach was eagerly welcomed, his hands running up her bare leg as he leant over. Kissing her softly, he smiled against her lips and ran his hand through her hair, brushing it off her shoulder and trailing it down her back. He relished the feeling of having her so close, having wanted to feel her body against his the moment they broke apart to redress. Perhaps she felt the same way, for she broke their kiss and turned her attention elsewhere. Her hands tracing his skin, she caressed his neck while she kissed the spot behind his ear, inhaling deeply. He felt a sudden and unexpected rush of affection for her, the intensity of it startling him.

"I probably stink," he said, roughly jerking away from her. His heart pounded, fearful of what he had just felt.

"You do," she smiled, following his movement. She kissed behind his ear again, her fingers brushing his hair back the same way he did to hers. "It's good stink."

Against his sudden need to distance himself, Rick felt himself relaxing into her touch, and with a long sigh he let her embrace him. "What's good stink?"

"It's a certain smell. You smell the way a man should."

Following her lead, he moved to gently kiss her neck, though he took care not to mark her up. He inhaled deeply, nuzzling his face against her skin. "You smell good too."

Feeling more and more aroused, Rick toed the line between behaving himself and trying to start up a second round. He moved is hand inside the front of her shirt, tracing his fingers over her collarbones and feeling the way she moved as she gently kissed him again. Enjoying their time together, particularly with the way she sat with her legs over his, Rick hoped to ensure they got this time together again, and soon. They were so close to Alexandria now, and with a new truck that wouldn't be holding them up any more, he expected that they ought to make it there by tomorrow…maybe even tonight if the roads were good. It wasn't a stretch that they find time together when they got back…certainly there would be opportunity if they made it. Just as he was about to voice this to her, he noticed that her attention had wavered a little and was focused on the Walker again.

Despite the fact that it was missing an eye and half its jaw, Rick wasn't overly bothered by its presence, knowing that it couldn't get to them. Besides, if it was going to draw other Walkers it would have done so by now. But looking at Carrie now, he could tell that its presence was bothering her, even though she was trying to ignore it. Kissing her on the cheek, he ushered her to move off him. Getting up, he chose his preferred knife and then headed over to the bedroom window, carefully checking around the Walker to ensure that it was indeed only one. Certain that it was, he opened the window and promptly plunged his knife into the skull, holding it there as he noticed something peculiar. Noting that there was a very clear W cut into it's forehead, Rick roughly shoved it backwards and withdrew his knife, watching in satisfaction as the Walker fell to the ground.

Wiping his knife on the curtains, he splashed some of their bottled water on his hand, seeing a little blood spatter there. Looking at the window that was now devoid of life, he dwelled on the fear that he would return to Alexandria to find that something terrible had happened. The Walkers with the W had been a concerning mystery since they'd seen them at Shirewilt Estate, the numbers around Alexandria seemed to be growing. Though it wasn't unusual for a Walker to travel significant distances, particularly when they were part of a herd, the notion that the carved up Walkers were spread out across the state was worrying.

Shivering as a cold wind picked up, he glanced at the sky and noted that dawn was near. His time with Carrie was up now, and he knew they should be heading back to the others…they should have gone back earlier. Turning back to Carrie, he looked at her to gauge her intentions. Having moved only to stretch out her legs, she gave no indication that she was ready or willing to leave. Getting the hint, Rick closed the window and sat back down, pleased when she moved to put her legs back in his lap. Kissing the side of her neck, though not hard enough to leave a mark, he just managed to see the smile that was forming on her face. He listened to her breathing in and out, her shoulders moving with each breath as he continued pressing his lips to her skin. She complained a little now, leaning away from his kiss.

"Rick…" she sighed. "Your beard is scratchy…"

"This is no beard," he told her, seeking out her lips. Offering what he wanted, she turned enough to kiss him, indulging his request. "I don't want to leave this room," he told her honestly.

"Me either."

Disappointed that they would have to soon, Carrie brushed her hand over his head and pushed his hair back from his face. To his surprise she titled his head forward and then pressed a kiss to the top of his forehead, letting her lips linger. He closed his eyes as she did this, his arms sliding around her waist to hold her, to bring her closer to him. Helping her move onto his lap and situate herself, he kissed her languidly, his hands sliding under the front and back of her shirt. He wanted more of this, not just of the sex, but of just being with her like he was now, talking, enjoying her company. It had been so long since he'd intimacy with another someone in any sense of the word, and now that he had developed that with Carrie, he knew he wasn't going to give it up.

"Everything alright?" he asked, noticing that she was flexing her left ankle.

"It's just sore," she said nonchalantly, trying to kiss him again.

Letting her kiss his cheek, Rick took his hand from her stomach and reached out for her foot. "Where now?"

"The ankle," she told him, resting her forehead against his as he gently began to rub. "A little further back…Mmmm, there."

"Did this happen the other night in Franklin?" he asked.

"Not my ankle, just the bruise. I fractured my ankle a few years ago. I fell off the treadmill at the gym…I was trying to get off mid-sprint."

"Why would you do that?"

Shrugging, she answered, "I was upset about something. It was pretty embarrassing arriving at work wearing a moon boot."

"You think that's embarrassing? Try turning up to a police station with a bright pink cast on your arm."

"Bright pink?"

He nodded wryly. "I broke my elbow a few years ago, and I didn't notice that Lori told them to give me a pink cast."

"Oh," Carrie cringed, laughing at him. "That would be bad."

"I never forgave her for it. I had to let Carl paint it for me."

"And how did you break it?"

He grinned. "Bronco riding."

"Wow," she said in astonishment. "You're full of surprises. So, it wasn't your thing?"

"No, I was really good at it," he assured her. "So good that I thought I didn't need to put my beer down."

Laughing again, she kissed his cheek. "So you were being cocky? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," he smiled, remembering that was exactly what Lori called him when she stopped worrying.

Gratefully receiving her next kiss, Rick smoothed his hand over her hair, liking the way it was wavy and messed up. Just like he had earlier, he felt another unexpected rush of affection for her, one that made him want to hold her there in his arms, to feel her body against his. He knew it was normal to feel that rush of emotion, they'd just had sex after all, and he'd never really been the type for a one night stand…but just like before it took him by surprise. He remembered feeling the same thing the moment he laid eyes on both his children, the rush of emotion that at first was difficult to describe, but later he figured out was love. This realisation served to frighten him, his instincts warning him to back off from Carrie before friendly affection developed into anything else. It was the rational thing to do, to hold himself back and make sure that the fling they had going on didn't become more…he should be managing his expectations, and hers too.

"We need to go," he regretfully told her.

"Alright," she agreed, nuzzling his neck. In contrast to what she said, she took his hand off her ankle and slipped it back under her shirt. He could feel her grinning against his neck when she slipped his hand underneath her bra, encouraging him to touch her.

"That's not helping," he scolded her, smiling nonetheless. It hadn't taken her long to figure out how much he liked her breasts, and even less time to begin using that to her advantage. Restraining himself greatly, he took both his hands out from inside her shirt and gave her a short but sweet kiss. "Come on…we have to go."

Reluctantly, Carrie moved off his lap and let him up, though she metaphorically dragged her feet as they started getting their things together. While she put her jeans and shoes back on, Rick hastily fastened his duty belt around his hips and checked his Colt out of habit, assured by its presence as he slid his knives and machete into their rightful places. Swinging the M4 over his shoulder, he picked up Carrie's leg holster and then clipped it around her leg, securing the straps and letting his fingers linger a moment longer. Though she was perfectly capable of doing it herself, he enjoyed doing it for her, the task giving him the opportunity to touch her, to flirt a little.

"You helping me, or feeling me up?" she asked, her voice teasing him.

He knew what he wanted to say, the words _Just taking advantage of what's mine_ , on the tip of his tongue. But he restrained himself, knowing he had no right to say that to her. She wasn't his…at least not in the traditional sense of the term.

"Both," he remarked, fixing the top strap of the holster to her belt loop. Sliding his hand around to her ass, he gave it a firm squeeze as he pressed his lips against hers. He slapped her ass now, the motion making her jolt a little. "Come on, let's go."

"You don't play fair," she growled, playfully lunging for him.

"I never said I would."

Checking they had taken everything, they reluctantly left the house and emerged back onto the street, though they made no effort to walk very fast. They slowly made their way down the street, and as he yawned he thought for a moment that he saw Carrie reaching for his holster, for his Colt. His hand automatically went to protect it, to keep his weapon safe, but barely a second later he was scolding himself. She hadn't been reaching for his weapon, but for his hand, which until then had been resting on his duty belt. They looked at each other for a moment, Rick highly conscious of the fact that she was trying to restrain a smile.

"Something wrong, Baby?"

He looked away with a grimace, realising she was making fun of him. "It just slipped out," he groaned, somehow managing to laugh at himself despite his embarrassment. Though he hadn't used that particular endearment for his wife for quite some time, that morning it had rolled off his tongue habitually, the word as natural as breathing. At least he didn't say Lori's name in the middle of sex.

"I'm just teasing," she grinned. "It was…cute."

Rolling his eyes, he took her hand and tugged on it to get her moving. Returning his attention to their surroundings, which for the last few moments he had neglected, he kept track of what was around them, doing his best to keep his mind focused. Carrie was bad for his attention span, that much he had learnt over the last two weeks. She had the tendency to unintentionally distract him, and he often felt complacent, like he was forgetting to do something. But it wasn't entirely the fact that she was distracting him…she had a calming effect on him, the way Lori used to have. With Carrie, he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down a little, even though he knew he ought not to. The notion that she was quite comfortable teasing him was amusing…attractive even. Lori had always been capable and willing to go toe to toe with him, and it seemed Carrie was too.

As they drew nearer to the end of the street where they would turn the corner, Carrie squeezed his hand and made him slow. Stopping, he was pleased when she moved towards him seeking a kiss, taking advantage of their last moment of privacy. The moment they rounded the corner they would be within sight of Glenn and Rosita, and neither of them were keen to put on a show for their friends. Making the most of it, he kissed her deeply, not knowing when they would have the opportunity again. He slowly backed her up against the nearest car, using his hips against hers to hold her there. He wished they had more time together, that this didn't have to be their last opportunity. There would be opportunities when they got back to Alexandria, but for a while it was sure to be hectic. As the newest resident, Carrie would be subject to a great deal of interest and scrutiny, and everyone would want a piece of her. Further than that, Rick was going to be extremely busy over the coming weeks…there was so much he had to do, so many tasks he needed to initiate.

"We're going to be in Alexandria soon," he told her, breaking their kiss. "Tomorrow probably…maybe tonight if the roads are clear."

A nervous smile appeared on her face at this news, not that he could blame her. "Yeah," she agreed, not knowing what else to say.

"It's just…" he began slowly, not entirely certain of what he was going to say. He knew what he wanted to say, what it was he was asking, but the words just would not present themselves to him. "You and me…this. Are we going to keep this up?"

She looked at him in surprise, her brow pinching. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to ask so bluntly, or to ask at all. "Do you want to?"

Being honest, he nodded his head. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't."

Her brow still pinched, she seemed to think about this for a moment. "We're having fun, aren't we?" she asked, continuing when he nodded. "Then I want this."

This answer brought him more relief than it really should have, another factor that served to frighten him, warning him to back off from her. Yet he didn't, knowing he was on to a good thing. How often did something like this happen for him? Something that he indulged in purely for his own desires, his own needs…it had been quite some time since he had put himself before the group, before his children.

"Carl cannot know," he reminded her, wanting to make sure everything was absolutely clear. "At all."

"I know."

"Good," he nodded gratefully. He thought for a moment, pulling her hair out from inside her jacket. "Aside from the fact that my sex life is none of his business, I don't think he'd take it very well."

"Rick," she began slowly, sounding a little tentative. "I hope I'm not overstepping anything here…but you're not cheating on Lori."

He faltered at this, her words hitting him more deeply than she realised. He still loved Lori, and it was a difficult understanding to have while he was presently screwing around with another woman. Glancing down at his wedding ring, he wished he could understand the distinction. "Carl won't see it that way."

"I wouldn't expect him to."

Looking at her again, he felt the rush of affection yet again, surprised by how she seemed to understand. "Thank you," he said, kissing her sweetly now.

Not saying anything more, Carrie deepened their kiss, her hands around his neck as she sighed against his lips. Knowing they had only a little more time, they enjoyed their kiss and made it last, Rick knowing this might be their last opportunity for some time. Letting his hands roam, he pulled up the bottom of her shirt and stroked his fingers around her navel, loving the way her stomach squirmed when she got ticklish. Pushing his hands away, she reached up and draped her arms around his neck, looking at him with a coy smile.

"Rick, whatever this is…it doesn't have to be complicated."

He frowned, a little surprised by this comment. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, not seeming all that concerned. "We're just having fun, right? Friends who scratch an itch for one another?"

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her in amusement. "That would work for you?"

She nodded. "Sure. I really like it when you scratch my itch."

"Well that's good to know," he remarked. Pressing his hips back against hers, he kissed her slowly, determined to enjoy the last of their time together. "So, we're…"

"Friends with benefits?" she suggested.

He had to hide his growing surprise…he had not expected permission to keep her at arm's length. Thinking back to earlier, to the unwelcome feelings of affection he had felt when they lay together after fooling around, he figured that her suggestion had merit. It made sense. Laying out their arrangement in simple terms would prevent either of them developing unrealistic expectations, he especially. He'd never had a friends with benefits relationship before, and he questioned whether or not he was really built for it. Nevertheless, he reached his decision.

"Benefits," he pretended to ponder. "Do I need to provide you with health insurance?"

Rolling her eyes, Carrie playfully pinched the back of his neck before pecking a kiss to his lips. "You scratch an itch on request…and I do the same for you."

"Well, alright," he sighed as if this was a burden. "If that works for you, it works for me."

"Works for me," she confirmed.

Without further ado, she slid her hands into his hair and kissed him properly, not letting him pull away. Elated by their agreement, and spurred on by the needy way she touched him, he eagerly kissed her back, grinding his hips against hers with a long moan. It was only the understanding that she was an unintentional distraction that reminded Rick of where they were, of what they had to protect themselves from. Breaking their kiss despite her attempt to draw it out longer, he cleared his throat as he looked around the street they were on, glad to find that his lapse in responsibility had not endangered them.

"I have an itch right now," he muttered, sighing as he kissed her jaw. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the way she smelt.

"I can tell," she chuckled. Being the responsible one for once, she put her hands on his hips and then pushed him away. "But unless you're going to let me do something about it, we should probably get back."

With a long sigh he nodded in agreement, reluctantly stepping back and putting some space between them. Focusing on something other than the uncomfortable feeling in the front of his jeans, he took another look around the street they were on, trying to get his bearings on the conversation they'd just had. But as if she thought nothing of it, Carrie on the other hand simply slipped her hand into his and set off, her promptness making him follow. His head was positively spinning right now, still trying to comprehend the understanding they were now friends with benefits. The term itself sounded stupid to him, more like something Shane used to do rather than what he did. But on the other hand…if that's what was going to work for Carrie, then he wasn't saying no.

Turning onto the street where the others were, they reluctantly let go of one another's hands. They shared a brief smile as they passed Glenn and Rosita who sat on watch, ignoring the very quiet wolf whistle that was sent their way. Wondering whether he should crawl back into his sleeping bag and feign sleep, or just pretend he had awoken early, he followed Carrie as she crept inside the house. Closing the door softly, he peered inside the living room. By the light from the smouldering fireplace, he could see that Carl was still fast asleep, and he smiled at the good fortune. Glancing back to see that Carrie was hovering in the hallway, that she was waiting for him, he crept towards her and titled his head. To his surprise, she reached up and draped her arms around his neck.

"In the name of benefits," she whispered into his ear. "Can I have one last kiss?"

As the feelings of affection for her grew immensely, Rick looked at her and shook his head, a little satisfied to see her face fall a little. "Not one last one," he corrected her in a whisper. "Just one for the road."

The sound of someone yawning from the living room necessitated that their kiss be short but sweet, and though the intention behind it was a kiss that would sustain them for now, it only made it more difficult to stop. Taking what they could, they brought their time together to an end, and they reluctantly began going about their usual routine. While Carrie set about making hot drinks for those on watch, Rick quietly divested himself of all his weapons and then returned to his sleeping bag beside Carl. Having exerted himself somewhat, he closed his eyes and got comfortable, enjoying what he felt was a rather deserved sleep. As expected, Carl didn't immediately rouse at their usual time, reaffirming Rick's hope that he hadn't awoken during the time he and Carrie were gone.

One by one the rest of the group roused, and Rick waited as long as he could before waking Carl, amused by the rough grunt of "Da-ad. Go away."

"You're the last one awake. Daryl will get a bucket of water."

"No, he won't," Carl grumbled. "He didn't do it to Carrie the other morning."

"That's because he likes her. You don't have that advantage," Rick informed him, tossing his boots over for him. "Come on, I've got something for you."

Predictably, this got Carl's attention, and he actually opened his eyes. "What is it?"

"I can't tell you until you're upright, dressed and ready to haul ass."

Though he grumbled and rubbed his eyes, Carl made no move to get out of his sleeping bag, ignoring the threat Daryl dished out as he walked past the living room. Trusting that it would be taken care of, Rick left him to it and headed outside, checking in with the others and making sure they were all eating. Grinning as Daryl walked past him with a bucket of water, Rick exchanged a smile with Carrie who was dishing out slices of toast and peanut butter. He couldn't help but think about earlier, and he hoped he was part of the reason she looked so cheerful this morning. She could be cheerful for a large number of reasons, their close proximity to Alexandria a major factor, but nevertheless he hoped he had some influence over her smile.

"Good morning," he greeted her when she came over, thanking her as he took a piece of toast.

"Good morning. There's coffee in the kitchen for you…yours in the black mug."

"You keep this up, and you might just win MVP of the supply run."

She grinned. "No, that'll be Daryl. He found the pasta maker."

"Speaking of Daryl," Rick muttered, suddenly hearing shouting from inside the house. "Sounds like he followed through on his threat."

Laughing, Carrie shook her head as she headed inside to make more toast with their camping stove, leaving Rick to converse with the others. The sound of shouting grew exponentially until it stopped suddenly, laughter erupting next. Wondering what the hell was going on in there, he checked in with Abraham and made sure that all was clear for their plans that day, he and Michonne having done a quick drive through the town a short while ago.

"What happened in there?" he asked Daryl, seeing him emerge from the front door, his jeans soaking wet from mid-thigh down.

He scowled, wringing water out of the top of Carl's sleeping bag. "Your kid's too young for me to hit, and he knows it."

"I see. So he got you?"

"Yeah…mid pour." Grumbling, he tugged at the front of his jeans with an uncomfortable expression. "I can't go putting on clean clothes…that'd make Carol too happy."

Letting Daryl worry about that, Rick hastened everyone to hurry up, eager to get back on the road. They'd been held up too long by the removal truck, and now that they had that problem fixed there really ought to be nothing to stop them. Despite this, Rick didn't let himself get his hopes up for an evening arrival. Pumping gas would take even longer now that they had replaced the removal truck with something larger, although it was nice to have the extra room. With the greater than expected volume of supplies from the underground bunker and Walmart, their cars had been crammed full of supplies up until yesterday, not leaving them much room for comfortable sleep.

Whistling loudly, Abraham rounded everyone up and outlined their plans for the next hour, deciding that Glenn was to be in charge of the team that went to the gas station. Abraham, Rick and Carl were going elsewhere, and he gave a detailed outline of how the others could find them if they needed to. Satisfied, everyone nodded and began filing into their respective cars just as Carl emerged the house, having stayed inside to put on a clean shirt. Taking his pack for him, Rick tossed it in the back of their car, he wrung out the wet shirt he had been wearing before and hung it to dry on the outside of the car from the rear window.

"Let's go," Abraham declared. "Haul ass and do a radio check."

"Seriously, Dad," Carl nagged, roughly trying to neaten his wet hair. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there," Rick told him, passing his crutches into the back seat with him.

"Okay, but just so you know," Carl began, leaning over the front seats when he got in. "If it's not Disney Land, I'll be disappointed."

"Then brace yourself for disappointment."

The convoy set off, completing their usual radio check as they departed. Letting Abraham drive, they followed the other cars through the suburb, doing a drive by of the construction site where they would be stopping to scavenge. Ascertaining that all was still clear, Abraham pulled to a stop and let the others continue on ahead towards the gas station a few blocks away.

"Cool," Carl grinned, peering past the security fences at the double story house that had been partly constructed. "Are we scavenging tools?"

"Yes, we are," Abraham declared, stopping the car and taking a good look around before opening the doors.

"Wait in the car," Rick told him, glad that Carl was pleased enough to agree.

Taking care, Rick and Abraham quickly cleared the construction site, taking down only two Walkers that had somehow managed to get through the gap in the fencing. Leaving Abraham to look around, Rick went back for Carl, helping him slip through the fence and enter the site.

"Awesome," Carl muttered, looking up at the scaffolding that allowed rooftop access.

"Use your crutches," Rick reminded him, knowing how impatient Carl was with them.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, making his way into the sight and taking a look around. Doing as he was told, Carl headed in Abraham's direction in order to keep their small group together. The construction of the home was only halfway completed, leaving them a significant amount of supplies that they might be able to make use of later on. The vehicles didn't need that much gas, and so they wouldn't have enough time take any of the lumber or cement that day, but the close proximity to Alexandria meant an overnight supply run wasn't exactly out of the question. Tobin and Abraham had taken inventory of their tools and building materials, and now that they were a little closer to home they were keeping an eye out for places that could scavenge for the more difficult to find materials.

"A lot of the houses outside the walls are going to need maintenance," Abraham told Carl, pointing out particular beams and joists to him. "Some of them were still under construction…most are finished, but just need a little work to get them into shape."

"Is that what you're doing next then?" Carl enquired, his eyes following the path of some copper pipes. "Extending the walls, and then fixing up the houses?"

"That's right. Tobin's a builder by profession, so he'll be in charge of the rebuilds.

"Hey, Dad," Carl said excitedly, his eyes alight. "Maybe we could help with the houses…Tobin could teach us. Like Herschel taught us the gardens."

Rick had to hide is surprise at this suggestion. Though it wasn't unusual for Carl to volunteer when there was work that needed to be done, Rick was surprised by the suggestion that they learn together, that they go back to their routine at the prison. Giving his reply before Carl could change his mind, Rick nodded.

"That's sounds like a fine idea," he agreed.

"What will Tobin teach us?" Carl asked, looking back to Abraham. "How to paint?"

Abraham shrugged. "Painting, tiling, framework…can you build a flatpack?"

"Sure. What's a flatpack?"

"A kitchen in a box. Don't worry, you won't need the instructions."

Carl laughed at this. "Men don't need instructions."

"No," Rick agreed, brushing his hand over Carl's shoulder as he walked past. "We just like to do it the long way."

"As long as it's not fixing the kitchen sink," Carl smirked, dodging Rick as he reached out to playfully smack the back of his head. "Dad flooded our basement once."

Abraham shrugged sympathetically. "Plumbing is one tricky bitch, Carl."

"Don't I get credit for all the things I actually fixed?" Rick asked, stung by the way Carl delighted in his plumbing mishap. "What about the time I installed a new kitchen window? Why did I have to do that?"

"A baseball."

"Your baseball."

"You're the one who didn't catch it."

Rick's retort died on the tip of his tongue, a disturbance catching his attention. Raising his M4 as he looked around, he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the hissing of an animal, not the growls of a Walker. Heading into the shell of a kitchen, Rick peered behind the island bench and found a Racoon cowering in the corner, its hackles raised defensively. Leaving it be, he lowered the M4 and returned to the living room to give Abraham a nod of reassurance.

"Dad, look. It's a nail gun," Carl said, showing him the heavy device.

"Be careful with it," he said automatically, looking around the site. Abraham was piling up power tools by the front door. An angle grinder, drill and small blow torch were ready to go, Abraham also tossing a medical kit and portable defibrillator onto the pile.

"Calm down, it's not connected to power."

"Don't damage it, is what I meant," Rick said lowly, raising his eyebrow at Carl's back talk.

"Oh, right," he muttered, suitably chastised. "Hey Abe, is that a blow torch?"

Leaving them to it, Rick wandered back out to the front of the construction site, checking on the minivan and the street. It was clear, the minivan awaiting their return in the same place they had left it. Though he had nothing but fresh air these days, Rick found himself sucking it in, wanting to feel the cool air on his cheeks. Soon enough they'd be back in the cars again, driving non stop to try and make it as far as possible. Alexandria was so close he could practically see it, could practically hear the rattle of the gate as it opened to admit them inside.

"Christ on a stick," Abraham cursed, exiting the site with his arms laden full of tools. "I like your kid, but he'd talk my ear off if I let him."

Rick laughed, amused by the observation. Pulling back the broken fence, he let Abraham through, and knowing he could adequately look after himself out there, Rick turned to go back inside. He was pleased to see that Carl was so interested in the construction site, having hoped to get him occupied with plenty of tasks once they were home. There was no negotiating that he would still be attending the school, but as for the rest of his free time, Rick hoped to fully occupy his son in the gardens, and eventually finishing the houses and church. The moment Carl's leg was properly healed and he was mobile once more, Rick had no doubt that he would resume his habit of sneaking over the walls to spend time in the woods. He didn't begrudge him this desire, particularly when Rick made more rounds outside the walls than exactly necessary, but he wished Carl wouldn't lie to him about it. If he wanted to go outside so badly, he just had to say so…Rick would make it happen for him, and safely too.

Hearing a commotion behind him, Rick looked over his shoulder to see Abraham had dropped the armful of tools he had been carrying. Just as he was about to question this, he saw a flash of fear cross Abraham's face, and he immediately knew it was something more than Walkers.

"Gimme the radio!" Abraham shouted, running back towards him. "The radio!"

Not waiting to question him, Rick tore the radio off his belt and tossed it over the fence, watching as Abraham caught it. "What is it?"

"Company!" he shouted back, fumbling to find the button on the radio. "Get Carl, now!"

Swearing under his breath, Rick pulled the M4 back into his arms as he turned and bolted back into the house to find his son. The only thing worse than unexpected Walkers was unexpected company, particularly that which made someone like Abraham panic and start running. His heart racing, he thought about the group that Carrie had encountered in Franklin, knowing that they had been listening to their radio conversations there, that they knew they had cleared Walmart. If it was them, it wasn't a stretch to figure that they had followed them with the intention of robbing them, although Rick's instinct was to protect the supplies at all cost, they couldn't risk the lives of their people just for some canned goods and batteries. Even considering the effort in getting them all, there could not be bloodshed to defend their supplies.

"Carl!" he shouted as he crossed the threshold. "Carl, we have to-"

Rick stopped mid-sentence, his eyes falling on the same type of scene he had experience only months ago, one he had never wanted to see again. Carl stood stock still in the centre of the bare room, his hands raised as his Beretta lay on the ground in front of him. Staring down the barrel of a shot gun, Carl shook as he slowly turned and looked at him, the expression on his face betraying how frightened he was. Feeling as though his heart had stopped in his chest, Rick looked from his son, to the shot gun pointed at him and then to the person holding it, not recognising them. They on the other hand, appeared to recognise him.

"You must be Rick," they greeted him pleasantly. "It's a pleasure."

* * *

A/N Sorry I didn't get this posted mid-week like I usually try to do. From now on posts will probably come on the weekend, a last little hit to get you through to the new episode :-)

The final scene between Rick and Carrie was an important discussion for them to have. I hope I don't frustrate anyone with the slow burn, I know some are probably desperate for their full blown romance to bloom, but I'm going to make Rick and Carrie work for it! Things are not so simple, and hopefully in the next story I'll be exploring that a little. Don't hate on Carl too much, nor on Rick trying to protect him. Again, I intend to explore this a little more in the next story.

Much thanks to my beta/plot advisor/MVP AngieB.


	43. Chapter 43

"Carl!" he shouted as he crossed the threshold. "Carl, we have to-"

Rick stopped mid-sentence, his eyes falling on the same type of scene he had experience only months ago, one he had never wanted to see again. Carl stood stock still in the centre of the bare room, his hands raised as his Beretta lay on the ground in front of him. Staring down the barrel of a shot gun, Carl shook as he slowly turned and looked at him, the expression on his face betraying how frightened he was. Feeling as though his heart had stopped in his chest, Rick looked from his son, to the shot gun pointed at him and then to the person holding it, not recognising them. They on the other hand, appeared to recognise him.

"You must be Rick," they greeted him pleasantly. "It's a pleasure."

Rick raised the M4, getting the man in the firing line before they could even say his name. They seemed neither surprised nor concerned about the gun pointed at them, and there was a brief pause in which Rick focused his attention on the man's finger, uncomfortable aware that it was on the trigger. Gauging his demeanour, he tried to anticipate what he might be up against here.

"Is there something you want?" Rick asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

The man shrugged. "For a start, you could lower that gun."

"I don't think so," Rick shook his head. "If your finger even twitches on that trigger, I'll blow your fucking head off…at this range that's not an exaggeration."

"Oh, really?" he enquired, his eyebrows raised. "I'm not sure about that."

There were soft footsteps to his left, but Rick was not alarmed, having already detected the presence of another gunman. As he knew they would, they pulled back the slide of their gun and let it slip back into a place, the click echoing the empty room. A moment later it was pressed against Rick's temple.

Rick was not intimidated. "Let me guess," he began, trying to maintain as much control as he could. "A Glock 17?"

"Glock 19," a second voice corrected him.

"My mistake. Police issue Glock 19…I can tell by the sound. Plastic doesn't sound as good as cold, hard metal, does it?"

There was a long silence, the two gunmen looking at each other for a moment. Taking the opportunity, Rick let his eyes dart over to Carl, who stood still as he watched the scene unfolded. Carl's eyes slid back to the man holding the shotgun, his jaw clenched as he tried to stay calm. To Rick's relief, there now came another set of footsteps, and he knew who it was before the person even spoke.

"Desert Eagle, Mark I," Abraham said plainly. "That is what you have pointed at your head, Asshole."

The first man gave a short laugh, looking at Carl with wry exasperation. "An M4, a Desert Eagle and a Glock walk into a bar….no? Not funny?"

"Punchline?" Rick enquired.

"The punchline, is I have a Remington 870 pointed at this kid's face." The man kept smiling, but then suddenly turned serious, looking impatient. "Now, are we going to talk business, or are we going to get our dicks out and measure them too?"

Rick took three decisive steps to his right and turned a little, wanting to be able to see everyone at once. The two men protested as he expected them to, the second man following him and keeping the Glock pressed against his temple. Re-evaluating the situation, Rick shared a quick look with Abraham before turning back to the first man. The man with the Glock against his head was close enough to disarm, Rick able to picture the manoeuvre he would make to gain control of his weapon. But the first man was right…the shotgun pointed at Carl's face was going to keep him in line. He needed to be very careful with how this situation developed…there would be no saving Carl from a shotgun wound to the face. Looking at the first man, Rick observed him carefully, figuring he had to be aged in his late forties, perhaps early fifties.

"Carl," the man began, enunciating his name. "Keep your hands up, and turn around. Slowly."

Carl looked over to Rick who nodded shortly, prompting him to do as he was told. Moving slowly, Carl turned on the spot until his back was facing the shotgun. While before he had seemed frightened, Carl was now keeping himself together, and Rick could see his eyes scanning their surroundings, taking in their environment, taking in who and what was around.

"Good. Now lower one hand and take th - No, your left hand," he decided. "Lower your left hand, and take the gun from the back of your jeans."

Following the instructions to the letter, Carl removed his spare, and then lowered it to the ground alongside his crutches. Standing straight again, he started turning back to face the man again, ignoring his instructions not to.

"I said face the other way."

His eyes narrowed and jaw set with a determination Rick knew all too well, Carl turned around and looked the man in the eye. The man shouted at him to turn back around, but Carl shook his head. "If you're going to shoot me, you have look at me while you do it," he said, his voice not quite as strong as his expression.

This comment seemed to take the man by surprise, and he looked at Carl in curiosity. He turned to Rick, and then back to Carl, critiquing them. both "Maybe I underestimated you, kid. You must be his."

"So?" Carl questioned.

The man smiled, and as he shifted his weight on his feet Rick took a step forward, initiating furious shouts from the man with the Glock. The first man just smiled at Carl before gesturing to Rick. "I've definitely got the advantage here," he told him.

Wanting the attention away from Carl, Rick changed the subject. "You never did tell me what you wanted?" he asked, hearing the sound of others outside the house. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone through the window cavity, just managing to see that they carried a rifle.

Satisfied that they were getting somewhere, the first man nodded. "Unless I am very much mistaken…you made quite the effort cleaning out Walmart a few days ago."

"What do you care?"

"Oh, we only care as far as the fact that you've robbed us."

"I didn't realised you owned Walmart."

He laughed now, tilting his head before his expression soured. "We've been clearing that town for a week. We were saving the best for last, and you stole those supplies from under us."

"I didn't see the name Asshole on the door."

The Glock against Rick's temple was suddenly shoved harder, its user getting impatient. "Watch it."

"Hey now, don't treat us like the bad guys here," the man, starting to sound angry. "That blonde you're fucking, the one you lost the other night…Carrie? You might have stolen our supplies, but we still tried to do the right thing by her."

"Sure you did," Rick laughed sarcastically.

"We heard you looking for her over the radios, thought we'd help. We found her hiding up in a car, all covered in blood, and we offered to take her back to you. She wouldn't hear of it! We tried to do the right thing."

He raised his eyebrows at this. "I'm sure you can understand that a frightened woman didn't trust a group of strange men to not take advantage of her."

"Hey, it wasn't like that," he said defensively, actually looking offended.

"I know you tried grab her just before we did, that you dragged her out from underneath a car. She said you wanted a reward from her."

"Well nothing's free! We wanted to trade, like now."

"Like now?"

"Yeah. We don't want to go around killing kids," he said plainly. "It's bad for morale. All we want is a trade, and then we can all be on our merry way."

There was a short pause, Abraham speaking up again. "This is how you negotiate a trade?" he questioned.

"Well how else is it done these days?"

"Simple," Abraham continued. "You introduce yourself, you make an offer."

"Well now I'm making an offer you can't refuse."

"You're not getting anything while you've got a shot gun pointed at him," Rick growled, stepping forward again. The man with the Glock to his temple followed, pressing it hard against the side of his head.

"You're forgetting that I have the advantage," the first man reminded him. "And not just over your kid…you think this is my whole group? I've got sharp shooters at the gas station, keeping watch on the rest of your people…they don't even know it." Using his chin, he gestured to the speaker on his radio that was pinned to his shoulder. "If I give the call, my people will open fire on yours."

"I dare yah," said a voice Rick was very relieved to hear.

From the corner of his eye he watched as Daryl confidently entered the room, his crossbow loaded and aimed, ready to fire. Taking shit from no one, he walked in and headed straight for Carl, edging his way in between he and the shot gun. Shielding him, he stared the man down through the scope on his crossbow.

"How good is your aim with that thing?" the man enquired, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Let's find out," Daryl drawled. "Left eye, or right?…I'm thinkin' left."

Watching as Carl slowly bent down and picked up his Beretta and raised it to the man with the Glock, Rick smiled grimly. "Still got the advantage?"

"Not from where I'm standing," Glenn's voice piped up next, coming from somewhere Rick couldn't see.

"They ain't got no sharp shooters neither," Daryl added. "Yah full o' hot air, asshole."

Letting the change of circumstances sink in, Rick patiently awaited the man's surrender, his heart slowing now that Carl was out of immediate danger. Slowly taking in the circumstances, the man seemed to come to his senses. Giving the other a short nod, he lowered the shotgun and opened the barrel. Removing the cartridge, he tossed them away, however Rick did not yet relax until the Glock pointed at his temple was also lowered. Hearing the sound of the magazine being ditched, he took his eyes off his target and lowered the M4 ever so slightly, turning his attention to Carl.

There was a shout from outside, Aaron's voice loudly telling someone to stay down, and then a shot was fired. The others acted swiftly and stupidly, the first man raising the unloaded shotgun and trying to take a swing at Daryl. A loud shout echoed through the construction site, followed by rapid gunfire and shattering glass, but Rick had no time in which to react, no time in which to protect Carl. Something heavy and hard came at him, knocking him to the ground as he felt a sharp pain on the side of his head. He saw white as his head cracked against the concrete floor, his mind racing with the thought that he had been shot, that he was dead for sure. His vision slowly returned, marred by white spots, but the incredible pain in the side of his head kept him on the ground, his hand clamouring to feel for the wound. There was more gunfire now, and although he could hear Carl screaming something, Rick had never been so glad to hear it…screaming like that meant that he was alive. There were a few more gunshots, and knowing better than to try and help given his current situation, Rick pressed his hand to the wound on the side of his head and waited.

Someone else was screaming bloody murder too, howling in agony, and Rick just hoped to god that it wasn't his group. As his head slowly caught up with reality, Rick felt warm blood seeping across his shoulder and down the side of his head, a heavy mass weighing him down until it was roughly pulled off him. Someone else was screaming now, Abraham's loud instructions telling them to shut up. As his vision returned, Rick sat up and looked around for Carl, finding him pinned to the floor beneath Daryl. Though he was covered in red, his features were animated and scared, not screwed up in pain, reaffirming Rick's relief that he was alright.

As it always did, things went silent again, the brief reprieve giving Rick the opportunity to take stock of what happened. The first gunman lay dead, while a third unknown attacker lay dead on the other side of Carl and Daryl. Meanwhile it was the second gunman causing so much noise, the one who had held the Glock to Rick's head. He lay on the ground beneath Abraham's foot, clutching his bloodied hand that was now missing two fingers. Abraham and Glenn were still shouting, their guns pointed outside the house as Daryl hauled Carl to his feet.

"Get your crutches," he told him, moving over to Rick next. "You sit, stay there," he told him gruffly, rifling through the pouches on his duty belt to find the hand cuffs.

Knowing when to do as he was told, Rick pressed his hand to the side of his head and watched as Daryl wrangled the second gunman out from underneath Abraham's foot, cuffing his hands in front of him while showing no sympathy for his injury. "Get up!" he shouted angrily, roughly hauling the man to his feet. "You gonna be a human shield for the kid. How's that sound?"

He turned to Carl and ushered him over, prompting him to stay close before looking to Rick. Clicking his fingers impatiently, he ushered Rick to his feet. Getting himself together, Rick slowly pulled himself to his feet and swayed a little, feeling as though he were going to be sick. He took a few deep breaths to clear his head before picking up the M4 and ensuring his Colt was still in its holster. Letting Abraham and Glenn lead the way, they stayed in close formation as they began to exit the construction site, their weapons armed and ready to take on those who they knew to be outside. With Carl protected by Daryl and the gunman who was now a shield, Rick looked at the four figures outside the building, glad to see they appeared to have surrendered. Guarded by Aaron, two men and two women sat on their knees in a straight line, their hands behind their head as they watched the people they tried to attack start leaving with one of their own. Behind them, another body lay completely still below the front windows.

Looking out onto the street, Rick took note of the Hyundai his own group had arrived in, as well as two other cars he didn't recognise. Following Glenn, Daryl and Carl through the fence, he allowed Abraham and Aaron to stay behind a little longer. Glenn checked the street both ways before turning to their hostage, snatching him from Daryl's grip in an unusual display of aggression. He roughly hauled him into the minivan's front seat before opening one of the handcuffs to loop it though the handle above the door, quickly replacing it around his wrist again. While Daryl swept Carl into the back seat, Glenn rifled around in the glove compartment before thrusting a bandage to the hostage.

"Apply pressure," he said shortly, slamming the door shut. He turned to Rick now, his expression now softening as he passed him a clean bandage too. "You alright?"

Rick just nodded, glancing over at Carl. Looking past the red blood spatter, his face was pale, his expression rather plain as he looked at the hostage who was still moaning in pain. "Everyone back there alright? At the gas station?"

"They've got it handled."

Received to hear this, he took a deep breath and gestured to the other cars. "Check the ignitions, see if we can take their keys."

Leaving Glenn to that, Rick looked back at the others who were still behind the fence, giving careful consideration to his next move. He allowed himself a few moments to think, knowing that whatever had struck him on the head had been a heavy blow. Despite a little blurriness, his eyes caught sight of something brown that had been left behind in the front yard of the construction site, its presence there affirming his need to go back in. Making sure Daryl was alright to be left alone with Carl and the hostage, Rick steeled himself before heading back the way he had come, his head whirling momentarily as he bent down to slip through the gap in the fence. With Aaron and Abraham guarding the four people who had surrendered, Rick strolled across the yard, his boots sinking into the soft mud.

Observing the scene for a moment, he was pleased to see that the four of them looked suitably intimidated, and he suspected the blood pouring down his face was aiding this. He gave Abraham and Aaron a reassuring glance before heading back inside, remembering something he had seen in there. His boots echoed through the house as he headed for the toolbox that had been left in the kitchen, grabbing the pack of cable ties he found in there. As he walked back to the front, he quickly glanced over the two bodies that had been left, the first gunman with a bolt in his left eye as per Daryl's promise, and a third attacker that Rick hadn't seen before. Going a little closer to see, his stomach turned when he saw the man's mangled face and neck, his experience enabling him to recognise that he'd been shot twice in the face, and once in the neck. Picturing Carl's state, and the amount of blood that was pooled around this man's body, Rick knew it had been him involved.

Returning to the scene outside, Rick opened the packet of cable ties and pulled one out, making a loop and showing it to the four people as he approached them. Standing behind the first one, he went about a routine he knew all too well, taking the mans hands off his head and securing them behind his back with the plastic tie. He hauled him to his feet and led him a few feet away, wanting them separated from each other. Rick quickly patted him down and relieved him of all his weapons, tossing them to Abraham who slipped them into the satchel he still carried. Repeating the process with the other three, he bound their hands, separated them and relieved them of their weapons, removing their radios and taking the batteries. Finished with them, Rick headed over to the brown item that had confirmed his need to come back in, and he swooped down and picked up Carl's fallen hat. After everything they'd been through, he was not losing it like this.

Turning the brim around in his hands, he joined Abraham and Aaron in front of the four hostages, he made a point of staring each of them in the eye, gauging which one would break first.

"The guy with the shot gun…was he your leader, or henchmen?"

Choosing the man who had broken a significant sweat, he marched over and towered above him. Maintaining eye contact, Rick stared him down until he finally answered.

"He wasn't our leader."

"Where is your leader?" he enquired plainly, brushing the dirt off Carl's hat.

"Not here," the other man replied tersely.

Looking down the line, Rick laid eyes on the man who had spoken, immediately identifying him as the most confident, the most pissed off by the turn of events. The man's face was twisted into a scowl, and so Rick slowly made his way across to where he knelt.

"You in charge?"

"No," he replied shortly.

"No," Rick agreed, glancing back at the rest of the group, reading their body language.

He could read them well, recognising the subtle gestures and overcompensation they made to protect one particular person. Though it was unconscious, Rick had noticed members of his group doing that for him, that they protected him as much as he protected them. Moving further down the line, he honed in on the red headed woman he thought they might be compensating for, the one who tried to make herself as small as possible. He wasn't fooled, and he nudged her knee with the tip of his boot.

"You."

"Me?" she asked quietly, not raising her head.

"Yes, you," he said, nudging her a little harder. He had suspected that if the leader was one of the women, it would be her. Of the two women there, she was the only one who hadn't flinched when he patted her down, who hadn't shuddered when he made a point of feeling her ribs and hips. Though she cowered from him now, he knew it was strategy. "Look at me…now."

Finally she raised her head, giving him the satisfaction of seeing the defiance in her eyes. Knowing he had been right, he crouched in front of her and stared her down, suspecting she wasn't much dissimilar to himself. He could tell by her gaunt cheekbones and weatherbeaten face that she too had faced hardship, he could see it in her eyes that she had suffered, but frankly he didn't care. Making a point of memorising her curly red hair and facial features, he further scrutinised her, trying to get a read on what she and her group were really after.

"I get it," he told her shortly, tilting his head as he narrowed his eyes at her. "You've got people to protect…people to provide for. But I guarantee you won't do it at my group's expense. I won't allow that."

She had little reaction to his threats. "There are no guarantees," she told him plainly, apparently not intimidated.

"No, there aren't," he agreed.

"I'm not afraid of you. Or your group."

"Why?" he enquired. "Is it because you're a woman? You think because of that, I won't hurt you?" He was pleased to see a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, knowing that was the factor upon which she based her confidence on, that she had played upon that before. "I don't give a shit about your gender. Are you going to be dumb enough to keep following my group?"

She considered this question, confidently jutting her jaw out before answering. "Only if you're dumb enough to kill another of mine."

Rick shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the car as though giving this a great deal of thought. He stood up with a long sigh. "He can hang with us for now…a guarantee of sorts." Looking back at her, he worried that she wasn't taking him as seriously as he'd like. "Do I need to take you too?"

Appearing nonchalant, she shrugged her shoulders uncaringly, but Rick could see the way she leant to her left a little, the way her head fractionally turned towards the other woman a few feet beside her. "Do what you want."

Considering this, Rick knew he had something to prove here today. He had to make absolutely sure that these people wouldn't try to follow them any further than they already had, especially given how close they were to Alexandria. His hand automatically reached for his Colt, but on second thought he drew his red handled machete and held it by his side, never breaking eye contact with the leader. He was unsurprised that she didn't flinch when he slowly raised the blade to the side of her neck, and so he took three steps to his right and raised it to the side of the other woman's neck. This brought about the reaction he wanted, the leader actually lurching a little.

"Rick!" Glenn called out from the street, getting his attention. "We gotta go, now. They've got back up coming."

He nodded and then turned back to the woman before him. "Get up," he instructed harshly. "Get up, now."

The woman trembled, not responding until he shouted his instructions now. As the blade followed her as she stood, Rick glanced back at the leader, satisfied that he had unnerved her. This woman obviously meant a little more to her than the man they already had hostage. "She can come too…I expect I'll see you again soon to take them back."

"You won't hurt them?" she sought to clarify.

Rick shrugged. "Like you said, there are no guarantees." Tucking Carl's hat under his arm, he took the other woman by the elbow and roughly yanked her towards the fence. "Come on. Go."

Leading the woman back towards the car, he ignored her signs of apparent distress, caring very little for her tears. As Abraham and Aaron followed, their guns trained on the other three right up until the moment they reached the cars, he lead the woman over to the Hyundai, not wanting both hostages in the same car. Needing to be as intimidating as possible, he suppressed his natural urge to comfort the woman, to reassure her that she wasn't going to be harmed. This group had already followed them this far, he had to guarantee they weren't going to follow them any further. Besides, he doubted her distress was all that genuine.

Ushering her into the back seat, he slammed the door shut and then headed around to the other side to join her, briefly conversing with the others. There was little need for conversation, everyone instinctually knowing what to do and confident to follow Glenn's lead when he told them which route they needed to return to the gas station. Taking a quick look to check on Carl, who sat in the back seat of the minivan with Daryl, Rick was satisfied enough, and so he quickly joined the woman in the back seat.

"Put your head between your knees," he told her, feeling a headache beginning as she started to cry. "And cut the bullshit."

"P-please," she pleaded with him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Let me talk to th-"

He cut her off sharply, pointing the tip of his machete to her neck. "Head between your knees, and cut the shit. I won't say it again."

There was a long pause, the woman looking at him as Abraham and Aaron took their seats in the front and started the engine. As they started following Glenn who drove the minivan, she did as she was told, pulling away from the sharp blade before bending forward and putting her head between her knees. Breathing a silent sight of relief, Rick pressed the bandage against the side of his head, feeling the cut on his scalp and wondering how he had sustained it, wishing he knew exactly what had gone down. Later there would be time to process it all, but right now he could only think of how quickly and unexpectedly things changed in this world…he had been incredibly stupid to let his guard down again, to take the risk of separating from the group.

And the day had started so well.

* * *

Looking forward to the opportunity to take up her yoga hobby once they were back in Alexandria, Carrie hauled the red gas container over to the new truck, her arms straining under its weight. The morning sun was hotter than she expected, and although she'd broken a sweat in only ten minutes of pumping gas, she was reluctant to take off her jacket. She'd made that mistake the other day in Franklin, and when Nicholas had left her behind she'd spent the night without her jacket…Maggie's jacket, she corrected herself. When they reached Alexandria she'd need to return it to her, not that Carrie minded. She had plenty of clothing now…and besides, she'd give many things for a solid roof over her head and fifteen foot walls.

They'd been at the gas station ten minutes now, and thankfully the only vehicle that needed filling was the new truck they'd taken in preference for the removal truck. Larger and roomier, it was running well so far, but would require a little more gas than the old. Nevertheless it was a small price to pay for a faster journey back home to Alexandria. Though the process of pumping gas by hand was still long and tedious, the group still went about it with speed and efficiency, increasingly eager to get back on the road. Abraham, Rick and Carl wouldn't take long to check out the construction site, and upon their return the process would speed up even more. They could be out of there in half an hour if they keep up this pace.

With a renewed sense of excitement, Carrie began pouring the gas into the new truck's tank, turning her face away to avoid the fumes. Though she hadn't wanted to get her hopes up about Alexandria, having spent the last few weeks feeling as though it was nothing more than a taunting dream, the group's increasing excitement to get home was rubbing off on her. Nevertheless, she still felt a certain air of apprehension about their impending arrival, nervous for the interview Rick had told her about. Though it wasn't an interrogation, and everyone assured her that her welcome was guaranteed, Carrie was wary. She'd heard conflicting reports about the community's leader, Deanna, though she knew she would only be able to form a true opinion of her when they met. Of course Aidan would portray her as the saviour who had built Alexandria, and of course Rick would view her with skepticism…but the thought of being interviewed by a stranger was intimidating. If she was screening out potential threats to her peaceful community, just how honest could Carrie be? She began to wonder how honest Rick and his group had been with her…

Hearing a commotion from behind her, Carrie hastily put the gas container down and turned, preparing herself for unexpected Walkers. Drawing her knife as she came around the front of the truck, she was surprised to find Daryl and Michonne standing in the middle of the street and looking to their left, Aaron rushing over too. Curious, she headed towards the front of the gas station and then stopped short, the subject of their interest immediately clear. About fifty yards down the road sat a dark blue station wagon, one that hadn't been there ten minutes ago when they arrived. Though she wasn't close enough to see it properly, Carrie could make out the shapes of people inside.

"It looks like three occupants," Aidan called out from atop the military truck, his binoculars raised in that direction. "They've got weapons, but they're not raising them…they're just sitting."

"Glenn, what's going on?" Carrie asked, seeing him rushing past her with two large rifles.

"Stay back," he told her shortly, gesturing his head towards Nicholas and Tobin. "Keep working at the gas."

Annoyed to be pushed aside, Carrie nonetheless backed up, trusting what he asked her to do. Increasingly nervous, she picked up the gas container and resumed her task of filling the tank, watching the others on the road over her shoulder. Glenn handed Aaron one of the rifles and then looked over to Rosita who stood on top of the delivery van. Clicking his fingers to get her attention, he whirled his hand around his head, giving some kind of message that Carrie didn't understand. Clearly knowing what he meant, Rosita put down her own gun and raised her binoculars instead.

"Aidan," she called out, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. "Roof tops and windows, now!"

While Carrie watched on in disbelief, Rosita and Aidan raised their binoculars and began looking around the city, and Carrie quickly figured they were worried about being watched, that they were on the receiving end of someone's rifle. A tense minute passed, Carrie emptying the gas container and rushing back to swap it for a full one.

"We can't see anything," Rosita called out, not keeping her voice low this time. "Tell Rick and Abraham."

"These people can hear us on the radio," Glenn hesitated.

"So what? You've gotta tell them, they're sitting ducks!"

As if on cue, their radios sounded again, Glenn and the others crowding around it, and even from a distance Carrie could see they were tense and anxious as they listened. Watching from afar, she observed the way Daryl moved back and forth on his feet, torn between darting off somewhere and staying to listen. Left completely in the dark about what was going on, Carrie looked up at Rosita and then Aidan, but they too were unsure of what was happened. Without warning the group's dynamic changed, something that was said over the radio sending them straight into action.

"Mother fuc…Let's haul ass!" Daryl shouted, whirling his crossbow over his shoulder as he followed Glenn over to the Hyundai. "Michonne, you handle here. Aaron! Aaron, you with us."

Like the well oiled machine they were, everyone seemed to fall in line as per Daryl's instructions. While Michonne drew her katana and fell back towards the gas station with the others, Glenn and Aaron scurried over to their delivery van and grabbed themselves a high powered rifle each, tossing Aaron tossing Glenn a spare magazine. They were weapons Carrie wouldn't even know how to hold, let along actually use, and yet they handled them with such confidence and ease, but their necessity alone only made her worry. Thankfully, Rosita voiced her question for her.

"Michonne, what the hell is going on?" Rosita called out from her position on top of the military truck.

The tyres squealed as the Hyundai speed off before the doors had even closed, Glenn's driving nearly unseating Aaron in the back seat as they sped off around the corner without second thought, taking mere seconds to depart.

"Something's happened," Michonne answered, confidently taking charge of what the group needed to do. "There's more people here, and Rick's in trouble. Rosita, Aidan, stay on watch. Nicholas, Tobin and Carrie…you keep pumping gas."

"Shouldn't we be leaving?" Nicholas protested.

Tobin shook his head, tugging Nicholas back towards the pumps. "We can't go anywhere without gas. Come on."

In complete disbelief, Carrie did as she was told, instinctually checking her pockets to take stock of what weapons and ammunition she was carrying with her. Her hands shook with nerves as she picked up the gas container and resumed her former task, knowing that it was impossible not to worry. They had accounted for the possibility that their group would be followed after their encounter with the others in Franklin, but until now they had thought they were relatively safe, that their fears were unfounded. Now though it seemed that their earlier fears had come to fruition. With a pang of horror, Carrie thought back to what she and Rick had been doing only a few hours ago, to the way they had snuck off for a quickie. She realised now that they had been extremely lucky. They had made themselves extremely vulnerable that morning, and anything could have happened to them…and to think Carrie had been most worried about Walkers.

On the way back to where Tobin and Nicholas were pumping, Carrie grabbed one of the radios from the back of the delivery van, turning it on and clipping it to her belt. She wanted to be informed, and with that small comfort she focused on pumping the gas, taking the next full container and hauling it back to the truck. The sooner they had gas the sooner they'd be ready to leave…while Glenn, Daryl and Daryl did their part, Carrie and the rest of them would do theirs. A few short minutes passed, the car down the street causing no trouble and Rosita and Aidan keeping careful watch of their surroundings.

Her arms straining, Carrie had her head bowed as she worked at the pump, and she fumbled with the handle at the sound of light pops came to her attention. In unison she and the others paused their work and looked in the direction of the sound, knowing on instinct that it was gunfire. Their work with the gas abandoned, they stood in silence and listened as more shots were fired, coming in rapid succession before falling silent. The tension was palpable, and Carrie looked towards Michonne, trying to gauge her reaction to the new development. Michonne looked around at them all, her grip tight around the handle of her katana while her other hand drifted to her radio.

"Don't," Rosita said sharply. "Wait for them to call first."

Though Carrie understood the reason, that if they called to their group over the radio they could disturb a potentially delicate situation, her hand reached for her radio too. Stopping herself from actually using it, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. It was difficult not knowing what was going on with the others, being in the dark about whether Rick and Carl were okay or not. She wasn't used to not being completely informed, to trusting other people to handle the problem they were faced with. For the longest time it had always been her leading people, the responsibility on her shoulders to make sure they were safe, to manage a situation. Standing there and waiting, not being in control of the situation…it was more difficult than she'd anticipated. An entire minute passed in silence, and while there was no more gunfire, the absolute silence of the radios made their anxiety worse. Glancing over at Nicholas and Tobin, Carrie wondered if they should get back to work with the gas or not.

Finally the silence was broken as a familiar voice came over the radio.

"Michonne, we're okay," Glenn said, sounding a little rather breathless.

Relief flooded through Carrie, and she let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Keenly aware of how hard her heart was pounding, she ran her hand through her hair and looked around at the others, sharing their smiles of relief.

"Everyone?" Michonne confirmed, hearing the sound of someone in pain coming from the background noise. "Everyone's okay?"

Glenn didn't reply immediately, and the minute of silence that followed was almost as unbearable as before. "We're fine," he finally assured her. "It's not us that's hurt…we're going to be a few minutes, and then we'll be back."

At this last remark, the dark blue station wagon that had been parked fifty yards away suddenly roared to life, the tyres squealing as it took off and came towards them. In one fluid motion the group raised their guns and prepared to fire if necessary, but the car drove straight past them instead, disappearing around the same corner Glenn, Daryl and Aaron had taken.

"Glenn, heads up. That other car we saw is on their way, they're taking the same route you did. It looked like four people."

"Got it, thanks."

"Carrie, come on," Tobin said kindly, his voice reassuring her as he put his hand on her shoulder. "We need to keep going."

She nodded, following his prompt. Turning back to the pump, she kept working at the handle, her arms and shoulders protesting as she steadily helped Nicholas and Tobin fill the containers. When hers was finally full she picked it up and hauled it back over to the new truck, staggering a little as sharp pain shot through her left leg. That bruise sure was giving her trouble, and yet the pain kept her focused, making her feel grounded as she lifted the gas container and started pouring into the funnel. Keeping her face away from the fumes, she looked at the radio on her hip and waited for another transmission, one that would tell them the rest of the group were returning.

None came, but their growing anxiety was finally relieved a minute or so later. The container half empty now, Carrie looked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle, her relief coming full circle when she saw the minivan appearing around the corner ahead, the Hyundai following a moment later. Temporarily abandoning their tasks again, everyone who had been left behind stopped and watched the minivan enter the gas station and stop alongside the truck. While Michonne converged on the minivan, her expression horrified as she looked into the back, the Hyundai arrived behind it, Abraham stepping out and taking charge before it even fully came to a stop.

"Rosita, get your sweet ass down here, we'll need first aid. You too, Aidan. Nicholas, can take over watch for now. Carrie and Tobin, keep pumping that gas, we need to chew the asphalt."

Too worried to even listen to half of what Abraham said, Carrie stayed where she was and looked at their people, mentally taking count of those who had come back until her eyes were drawn to the passenger in the front of the minivan. An unfamiliar man sat with his cheek pressed up against the window, his hands cuffed above him as he clutched at a bloodied bandage. While Aaron stepped away to help take over the watch points, Glenn and Abraham converged on the man in the front seat, opening the door and brashly telling him to shut up. Watching in abject horror, Carrie's mind raced as she wondered what on earth had gone on back at that construction site, figuring this man had been one of those who had attacked them. Her thoughts on the matter were quickly distracted, however, her heart leaping in horror when she saw Carl getting out of the back seat.

As Daryl helped him set his feet on the ground and shakily stand up, Carl slowly raised his head and looked around, fully revealing his state. Bright red blood covered half his face and neck, his hair damp and clumped, his grey plaid shirt completely stained. He looked up at the stranger who Glenn and Abraham were wrestling out of the front seat, the whites of his eyes standing out even more against his skin. The only reassurance Carrie felt was that Carl didn't seem to be in pain…in fact, he stood rather calm and still, nodding slowly when Daryl moved in front of him so that the other man couldn't see him.

"Hey, get us some water," Daryl requested, looking up and seeing Carrie hovering, unsure of what to do.

Hastening to help, she headed towards the back of the minivan, knowing they kept the large bottles of drinking water there. As she made her way around, she looked and breathed a sigh of relief to see Rick and Michonne talking a few years away, but like usual this feeling was short lived. He stood with his back to her, his hand on his hip in his usual stance, but it was when he turned around that Carrie saw the extent of what had happened. Though it wasn't nearly as much as his son, rivulets of blood had streamed down the side of Rick's face and neck, and he raised his hand with a long sigh and pressed a bloodied bandage to his scalp. Looking between he and Carl, Carrie felt positively sick, horrified to see them in such awful states. Looking back at Rick again, whose eyes were clenched shut and his jaw tense, her instinct was to go over and make him sit down, to rest for a minute, but it seemed he had little time for that.

Not saying a word to anyone, Rick cast a brief glance around the group, his eyes falling on her before settling on Carl, checking on him. Though he didn't seem all that reassured, Rick muttered something to Michonne before marching around to the other side of the Hyundai, the expression on his face darkening. Holding his machete by his side, he opened the door and reached inside and hauled something out of the back seat, and what she saw emerging made Carrie's blood run cold. It was a woman not unlike herself, her hands cable tied behind her back and tears streaming down her face. When Rick pulled her out of the car she immediately sank to her knees, crying as she tried to say something, pleading with him. He was having none of it, and he roughly hauled her back to her feet and told her to shut up.

The woman was fighting him now, digging her heels into the ground and almost forcing him to drag her. In a moment that took Carrie by surprise, the woman suddenly lunged at Rick, raising her knee and trying to drive it into his groin. As if he'd been expecting it he acted swiftly, dodging her attack and simply shoving her away. Without balance the woman fell hard, crying out as she hit the ground. Unable to look away, Carrie watched him in stunned disbelief, trying to rationalise what she was seeing in front of her. His behaviour was so out of character she had to look twice to make sure it was really him, certain that she had made a mistake. The Rick she was seeing now, who grabbed the woman's hands and roughly hauled her back to her feet…this was not the man she had come to know. There was so much going on right now that Carrie barely had time to absorb it, to properly understand what was actually going on.

As Abraham came to his aid, Rick swore as the woman tried fighting again, and he clenched his hand into her hair and wrenched her head back. There was near silence now, Rick leaning close and saying something to her very lowly. Whatever it was seemed to make her stop, and though he released her head and let her stand upright, his tone did not soften. Tugging at her arm, he led her towards the inside of the gas station, speaking only to ask the others that it was clear. With Abraham lagging behind now, Rick marched her inside and disappeared from Carrie's sight. Shivering, she stood there and watched the door, wondering what he was doing in there, if he was going to hurt her. Though she had little context with which to work, she knew this woman and the man with the injured hand had attacked the group.

"Carrie, for fuck's sake, get me some water," Daryl growled at her impatiently.

Apologising for her distraction, she opened the trunk and grabbed one of the spare water bottles before quickly returning to them. Carl looked like he might be in shock, his face blank and impassive as he stood there in silence. Red droplets hung from the end of his nose, chunks of what look like flesh marring his face until Daryl roughly began cleaning him up. Moistening the red rag he always carried in his back pocket, he wiped Carl's face down for him, muttering something barely audible.

"…you did the right thing, alright? You hear? Carl?"

Carl was nodding now, taking a few deep breaths. He raised his hand and touched his neck, looking at a piece of flesh he pulled off his skin before letting it fall to the ground. His face now showing something other than a blank expression, he frowned as his shoulders began to heave, and he suddenly turned away and puked. Roughly pulling back his damp hair, Daryl just held Carl by the upper arm and steadied him, handling the situation far better than Carrie would have been able to. She took a step back and looked around to assess the rest of the situation, dimly registering that the entire group had returned, and that aside from Rick and Carl, they all appeared unharmed.

While Nicholas stood on watch, Tobin was still pumping gasoline, aided by Glenn and Aaron who had taken up Carrie's abandoned task. Michonne on the other hand stood out on the street with her katana in one hand and a gun in the other, keeping watching in both directions. The only sound came from the male hostage, who was clenching his teeth and groaning as Abraham held him down while Aidan and Rosita applied a bandage to his fingers.

Her feet automatically taking her in that direction, Carrie steeled herself as she headed for the gas station. She had to know what was going on in there. Either they weren't paying attention or they didn't care, but no one told her not to as she opened the door and went inside. Entering with a sense of apprehension, she wondered whether or not she was really prepared for what she might see, for what might be happening. The interior smelt old and dusty, but thankfully not of rotting corpses or Walkers. Moving quietly, she looked behind the counter and then down the aisles, but it was the sound of Rick's voice that best indicated where he was.

"Stop being so dramatic," he growled impatiently.

Heading further inside, Carrie walked towards the final aisle and looked down, finding Rick and the woman at the very end. Although she stood upright, the woman's hands were still cable tied behind her back, and it seemed she was secured to the wall mounted shelf she stood in front of. Rick stood with his arms folded, and even without seeing his face Carrie could tell that he was at his wits end, that he'd had more than enough. Unfolding his arms for a moment, he wearily raised the bloodied bandage and pressed it against the side of his head, mopping up the blood that still ran down his scalp. He was saying something now, but he trailed off with a low growl when the woman started crying again.

"I told you to cut the shit!" he suddenly shouted at her, his volume making Carrie jump.

With a long sigh, the woman's shoulder's slumped, and Carrie made the mistake of thinking she was giving in to tears, that she was barely keeping it together. Seconds later Carrie understood, realising that while she had been fooled, Rick had not. The woman raised her head and straightened her shoulders, looking at Rick with challenge in her eyes. Embarrassment swelled in Carrie's stomach, and she hated herself for doubting him, for questioning his integrity. This woman was hardly a victim…the state of Carl was a testament to who the aggressor was in all this.

"Great. How about we sort this shit out now?"

The woman just shrugged. "There's nothing to sort out."

"Oh, I think there is."

"You shouldn't have taken me then. I'm not the leader."

"No, but she was protecting you, I could tell that much. What are you to her? A sister? Friend? Girlfriend?"

"Fuck you," she growled, suddenly spitting at him.

Rick didn't respond to this gesture, his self control too great. Wiping her saliva off his face, he carried on. "I don't give a shit who is in charge of your group, or their gender. The next time I see your group, I'll kill you. It's as simple as that."

"Go on, then," she dared. "Kill us."

"I've killed for less," he assured her. His tone was plain and factual, seeking to inform her rather than intimidate. "I know where the rest of your groups are. I know their routes for the supply runs."

Carrie was pleased to see the woman falter a little at this, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I know you're based somewhere in Ohio…Marion, isn't it?" He too noting her reaction, Rick continued. "Now I figure you've got six or so supply runs operating at the moment…and you've gotta have more people back home. Those not competent out here, those who're too old or too young….You've got a big group."

"Yes," she answered, sensing a denial would be pointless.

"It would be a damn shame if something were to happen to them."

"Is that a threat?" she demanded, suddenly firing up. "Huh? You threatening us?"

"More just making a statement of fact. Now you've followed my group for two days already, you've pointed a shotgun at my child…I think I've been pretty God damn generous in not killing the lot of you right now."

Behind Carrie, the door to the gas station opened unexpectedly, filling the silence with the sound of the other hostage. Abraham and Aidan were escorting him inside, holding his cuffed hands in the air. A clean bandage had been applied to his hand, his injury given the minimum treatment that it required. As they brought him inside they seemed surprised to see her standing there, but not more so than Rick was. Looking back around to him and realising her presence had been detected, she felt embarrassed to have been caught watching him. There was a brief moment in which they looked at each other, both silently acknowledging that his behaviour had frightened her at first, that he was showing her the side of himself he had repeatedly warned her about.

Taking advantage of his distraction, the woman aimed a swift kick at him, but she was unsuccessful just like before. Catching her movements out of the corner of his eye, Rick blocked her with ease, rolling his eyes when she tried again. Backing away from her, he ushered Abraham and Aidan to bring the other man over, pointing to the spot where he wanted him restrained.

Perhaps latching on to her expression of shock, the male hostage looked at Carrie desperately as he was brought past her. "Lady, please, don't let them hurt us!" he pleaded with her, sweat pouring down his pale face. "Don't let them kill us."

Abraham snorted in amusement, roughly pushing the man's head around so that he couldn't look at her. "Providing medical care to someone we're going to kill. That's smart."

The woman lashed out at Rick again, swearing at him and challenging him to hurt them, to follow through on his threats. Simply shaking his head in exasperation, Rick turned and walked away from her, sharing a brief conversation with Abraham. Leaving them to it, he came to Carrie now, his expression softening as he reached out and put his hand behind her shoulder. His request was clear, and so she followed him towards the door, waiting for him to get angry with her…she hoped he didn't, because she understood now.

"Carrie, what you saw just then…" he began, sounding apprehensive as opposed to angry.

"Don't," she cut of him. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

This took him by surprise, and he stopped in front of the gas station counter. "I don't?" he questioned.

There was no doubt that what she had seen had unnerved her, that his behaviour was so out of character she found it difficult to comprehend, but she understood now. What she had thought earlier, that the behaviour she was seeing was not the man she knew, was correct. That wasn't who Rick was…that was the side of himself he brought out that got shit done, the side of himself he only showed when necessary. He'd told her about it at the prison, and he'd never tried to hide the truth of it from her. The entire situation had been overwhelming at first, so much going on that she didn't understanding, but now it felt like the pieces were coming together.

"You keep asking me to trust you," she reminded him. "To trust your judgement. So I am."

He raised his eyebrows at this. With a long sigh, he pressed the bloodied bandage back against his scalp, and when he looked away from her she could tell he was apprehensive about what he was going to say next. "You looked scared."

"I was," she said honestly.

"Of me?"

"A little." Perhaps she was being too honest, for he seemed to flinch at her answer. Not wanting him to dwell on that, she hastened to continue. "I get it…I get what you're doing."

This seemed to help, and he looked back at her now, his apprehension fading. "You trust me?"

"Of course."

Accepting this, Rick just nodded in thanks. Gesturing to the door, he opened it and let her go out first, and Carrie was glad to be back outside again. Taking a look around, she was unsurprised to find that the station wagon from earlier had returned, as well as more people. Michonne still stood in the middle of the road, standing a few yards away from a red haired woman. The two of them faced one another, engaging in a silent stand off.

"Is that the leader?" she asked Rick.

He nodded grimly, flexing his jaw as he looked out at the scene. As Carrie knew he would, he looked around for Carl, glad to find him still in the company of Daryl. He delayed going to his son though, Rosita immediately swooping in on Rick and demanding she see the cut on his head. While Rick let her fuss, Carrie got back to work, taking the full gas container and lugging it over to the new truck. As she lifted it up and started pouring it in she watched Daryl and Carl who were nearby. Carl was bent over double, letting Daryl pour water over his hair. A bottle of dishwashing detergent was on the ground beside him, not ideal for hair, but good enough while they were in a pinch. As pink water ran out of Carl's hair, he suddenly started removing his shirt, showing the extent of which the blood had marred him. It had dried across the back of his neck and shoulder, and while Carrie wondered where it had come from, she felt comfort to not see any injuries. The fact that it wasn't Carl's blood was a relief.

Five minutes passed slowly, Carl drying off and putting on a new shirt before he was swept away into the front of the Hyundai. In that time Rick too made a similar transformation, getting cleaned up and changing his blood stained shirt.

"How much longer?" he asked Tobin.

"We could leave at any minute," Tobin assured him. "The next gas station should only be four hours, we've got more than enough to get us there."

"Good," Rick nodded in satisfaction. "Finish up then, we need to go."

Having never been more relieved to hear they had enough gas, Carrie hastened to empty the containers into the fuel tank. Taking the opportunity while he had it, Rick headed over to the Hyundai and opened the passenger door, looking in on Carl. Watching them, she was saddened to note how upset Carl seemed, and in a rare display of emotion he actually let Rick hug him. Feeling as though she was intruding, she looked away and focused on her task instead. As soon as Tobin and Aaron had packed up and the last of the gasoline was being poured into the new truck's tank, Rick made the call for them to get moving, ushering everyone into the cars.

"Carrie," Rick began, getting her attention. "Wait with Carl, please? I'll need you to drive too."

Nodding, she put the empty gas container into the back of the truck and then did as requested. While Michonne remained in her place on the street, everyone else began filing into the cars while Rick and Daryl headed back inside the gas station. Taking the driver's seat in the Hyundai, she cast Carl a worried glance as she adjusted the seat and mirrors. He sat quietly in the passenger seat, turning the brim of his hat around in his hands while he watched Michonne out on the street, worried about her being out there. Though she was obviously concerned about him, Carrie resisted the urge to ask him if he was alright, suspecting he didn't want to talk about whatever had happened back there. Instead she started the car and let it idle, turning on the heat when she noticed the gooseflesh on Carl's arms.

No time was wasted now, Abraham and Aaron emerging from the gas station and heading straight for their respective cars. Knowing what would happen next, Carrie watched as Daryl and Rick emerged a few moments later, both of them escorting one of the hostages. With an axe to grind, Rick was escorting the woman, both their faces set in an impassive scowl as they walked. Marching them across the car park, they slowed to a stop at the halfway point, and Carrie wished she could hear what was being said. It was clear a conversation of some kind was being held, a forced understanding being reached between the two groups. In what was possibly a show of good faith, Daryl released the male hostage from the hand cuffs and then gave him a rough shove, ushering him forward.

He went gratefully, cradling the bandage around his right hand as he went. They waited until he had returned to his group, the rest of them quickly ushering him into the back seat of the car while they waited for the next hostage. Taking his time, Rick was saying something to the woman, and though her expression was plain and unaffected, she nodded. Satisfied, he let go of her arm and stepped back, telling her in no uncertain terms to piss off. Standing side by side, Rick and Daryl watched as the woman walked across the rest of the car park, her hands still cable tied behind her back. When she reached her group she too was ushered into the awaiting car, which immediately started up and reversed back down the street. Four others lingered on foot, including the red headed woman who was squared off with Michonne.

There was a tense stalemate now, but after a few long moments the red headed woman turned on her heel and left, not wasting her breath with any parting words. Michonne did not move from her position, waiting until the woman and the three others were halfway down the street before her shoulders relaxed a little. Sheathing her katana, she joined Rick and Daryl and headed back towards the gas station. They talked quietly as they walked, each of them looking as grim and stressed as the other. But without preamble they separated into their respective cars, eager to get back on the road. When Rick joined them in the Hyundai, sighing as he sank into the back seat and closed the door, Carrie saw Carl sigh from the corner of his eye. Rick's return and the running engine of the car was the final sign that whatever had happened was now over.

"Radio check," came Nicholas' voice, their convoy starting off. In their usual formation, they formed their convoy and departed the gas station, and Carrie departed last. The other cars responded in kind, Carl taking up the task on her behalf.

"Radio check," Abraham said last, finalising all five checks. "Maintain absolute radio silence until we need to stop."

There was still tension as they drove through the small city, everyone apprehensive about running into that group again, regardless of whether or not an agreement had been reached between them. It wasn't until they left the city and hit the wide open road that Rick relaxed, Carrie watching in the rear mirror as he rubbed his hands over his face.

"You alright, Dad?" Carl enquired, looking into the back seat.

Rick nodded, reassuring him. Reaching back and fumbling around in the open trunk, he grabbed a pillow and then stretched out as best he could across the back seat, laying his head down with a sigh of relief. Carrie shared a look of relief with Carl, both of them glad to see that Rick was at least trying to rest. Heading northbound, their convoy of cars spread out to allow each other a little room, and soon enough Carrie had settled in and prepared for a long day of driving. She and Carl drove in a comfortable silence, and after half an hour of him restlessly looking into the back seat to check on his dad, he too tried to get some sleep, leading Carrie completely alone with her thoughts.

Trying to take stock of everything that had happened was difficult, her poor comprehension of the events only worsening the more she tried to figure them out. Their arrival in Alexandria now felt more like a vague future plan, something they were working towards, but would never actually achieve. She knew they were close, that they might even get there that evening, but it felt difficult to remember that she was excited about it, that this was a new phase of her life.

In the end, Carrie had no choice but to let her mind drift, to concentrate only on her speed and the car ahead. Just like all her tasks had been during the crisis, her task now was clear and simple. Drive.

* * *

Sorry it was later than usual guys, it's been a difficult week at uni. Plus uploading this chapter to has given me some grief, I feel like I've gone through the entire emotional range of Rick Grimes. Please send thanks to Angie B, her help on this chapter was major, and ongoing!

Thanks for the reviews, they've been great to read and I'm always excited to get them. I'm still working on the next story, (there won't be a delay in posting between the final chapter and the first chapter) and I'm having a lot of fun writing it. Again, send thanks to Angie B, because her help has been significant, not only in editing my work, but giving advice and helping me generate ideas. Kudos Angie.


	44. Chapter 44

On pure instinct alone, Rick began to rouse when he felt the car in which he travelled beginning to slow down. His eyes fluttering open, he slowly raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, the steady throb in his head making him want to continue sleeping. With a soft groan he began to move onto his back, flinching as his body protested, feeling rather stiff and sore. Given what had happened that day, he didn't blame himself for feeling a little run down. Wondering how much time had passed, he yawned as he felt himself waking up properly, blinking as he looked into the front seat where Carrie was driving.

"Where are we?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Just arriving in Staunton," Carrie answered from the driver's seat.

This answer got Rick's attention, and he sat up in alarm. "Staunton?" he questioned, his mind racing through an array of cities and towns he had come to learn throughout the last few weeks of planning. "Why are we going west?"

"I don't know," she shrugged apologetically. "I just follow," she explained, indicating to the cars ahead.

Accepting this, he brushed his hands through his hair and looked around, noting that they were driving through the outskirts of the town. He leant forward and looked at the driver's console, seeing that the gas light was illuminated, and a quick glance at the clock indicated that they'd been travelling for almost five hours now. Taking all this in, Rick turned his attention to Carl who sat in the front passenger seat. He was asleep against the window sill, his mouth gaping as he breathed in and out.

"How's he been?" he asked Carrie quietly.

She paused, thinking about her answer. "Quiet."

He had expected as much, knowing that after major events like what happened that morning, Carl tended to go quiet. Like Rick did, he tended to process things internally, taking the time to figure out what it was he was thinking, how well he was handling the situation. Remembering the state his son had been in, picturing the way Daryl had been tending to him, he knew he was going to have to take the time to check in with Carl, to make sure he was alright.

A short while later they arrived at a gas station of their choice, the vehicles pulling into their usual formation. The area was clear and quiet, and so they all filed out of their respective vehicles and got to work, going about their usual routine. Hoping that this would be the last day they had to spend on the roads, Rick made sure Carl was occupied and safe by Glenn's side before he looked around for Abraham. Seeing that he was standing by the minivan, and clearly waiting to speak to him, Rick grabbed his M4 and joined him.

"Any reason why we've been going west for the last five hours?" he asked, not confrontationally. He suspected that whatever Abraham's reason, it would be justified.

"Basic evasion," he replied, spreading out their map across the hood of the minivan. "Wanted to make sure those pricks back there weren't still following us."

Pointing out the roads on the map, he took Rick through their route that morning, both of them surprised by their success on roads they'd originally deemed to be a risk. While they'd been travelling for five hours straight, their path north west meant that overall they had made little progress towards Alexandria. This understanding got on Rick's nerves, for they were so close to their arrival home, and yet they couldn't risk going straight there. Not if they were afraid of being followed.

"We're on Highway 81 now, I figure we start heading north, at least until we bypass Winchester. From there, we'll decide whether or not to keep going north a little more, or if we head east to Alexandria."

"Decide based on what?"

"Time, gas, roads."

"Highway 7 should be clear all the way home," Rick mused, pointing it out.

"Mmm. So should should the Highway 70 off Hagerstown, and the 270 from Frederick. It might be worth going a little further north for the sake of evasion."

Though Abraham's recommendation made perfect sense, Rick was incredibly reluctant to allow their group to travel that far north, not all the way to Hagerstown. They'd be completely passing Alexandria and then travelling purely for the sake of throwing any pursuers off track. He didn't know how much more steam the group had left in them, how they would handle yet another delay when they were so close to home. Glancing up at Carl, Rick wondered how soon he had until his luck ran out. But that didn't change the fact that Abraham was right. They'd killed four of those people from the Ohio group, and wounded their pride too. The last thing they needed was for these people to know where they were based. They'd already expressed an interest to rob them of their supplies. Once again, it was people threatening their safety, while Walkers continued to be a nuisance they simply handled.

As though echoing this thought, three Walkers appeared around the side of the gas station, interrupting the efficient work being undertaken to pump the gas. The group members took them down with ease and then returned to their work, but it was yet another reminder of their nuisance.

"I'm going to back for a little bit," Rick began, wanting to hear Abraham's thoughts on the matter. "I know we tried this the other day, when Daryl and Aaron hung back to check we weren't being followed from Franklin, but it's worth trying again."

"If we're in the clear, we can take Highway 7 straight home. Might even be back in time for dinner."

"Maybe," Rick agreed, though he doubted this, given the time of day and their luck so far. "We'll gas up all the cars, hit the road again, and once there's a stretch of road with good sight lines, I'll stop. I watch for an hour to make sure no one's coming up on us."

Abraham nodded in agreement. "We'll need to stick to no radio communication. How will we know if you're alright?"

"You can just wait for me in Mt Jackson, if its safe. If I don't turn up, you keep going anyway." Abraham scoffed at this, making Rick repeat his point. "You keep going."

Nodding, Abraham understood Rick's priority was to get Carl home sooner rather than later. "Do you regret bringing him?" he asked, jerking his head over to where Carl and Glenn were on watch together.

"Yes," Rick admitted honestly. "And no."

"Way to commit," Abraham shook his head, beginning to fold up the map.

Rick shrugged, the question not to easy to reduce to a single answer. "Make sure everyone knows our route from now on, just in case something happens."

Their conversation concluded, Rick joined the others and began helping to pump the gas, not wanting them to spend any more time there than necessary. An hour later, the group was ready to depart, and after a brief discussion of Rick's plan and their expected route home, they began filing back into the cars. Escorting Carl over to the minivan, Rick was surprised when he didn't protest the fact that he was separating from the group, that he was endangering himself. Rather he just nodded in agreement and accepted his father's embrace, requesting that he be safe. Holding Carl for a few moments, Rick wished he had the opportunity to properly bring up what had happened to them that morning, he and Carl having not yet had the chance to regroup. Shots had been fired, and Carl had ended up covered in blood, and still Rick didn't know exactly what happened.

Another concern lingered in the back of his mind, something equally troubling as what happened to Carl. It was Carrie, although not her unfavourable reaction to the way he had been behaving with that woman earlier, to the way he had been so rough with her. Thankfully she hadn't been there during the hold up at the construction site, but her name sure had been mentioned.

 _"_ _That blonde you're fucking, the one you lost the other night…Carrie?"_

Likely not knowing what kind of wrench he was throwing at Rick, the man with the shot gun brought up something Rick didn't want verbalised, particularly right in front of Carl. The fact that this group knew he and Carrie had been fooling around meant they had been watching them carefully, and at the very least had seen what they got up to when they snuck out that morning. Aside from the fact that yet again Rick had let his guard drop when things seemed safe, Carl had been privy to the gunman's observation. He knew he was going to have to address what Carl had heard about he and Carrie, to ascertain exactly how much he believed. Despite Rick's fears, Carl seemed unconcerned about that particular comment, which wasn't unusual given what else was now preoccupying his mind. For now, Rick would be able to delay their conversation a little while longer, and with the promise that he would be safe, he ushered Carl into the minivan alongside Michonne and closed the door for him.

"I won the coin toss," Daryl said gruffly, joining Rick as he headed over to the last car.

Not naive enough to think his group would let him handle this task alone, Rick just thanked him as they loaded their choice of rifles and ammunition into the back seat, hoping they didn't need them. Always thorough and thinking ahead, Daryl tossed a dark coloured blanket, some ear muffs and some hand held mirrors in as well, knowing they'd make good use of them. Not needing to be told, Rick took the passenger side and let Daryl drive, their entire convoy starting off again.

"Radio check," came Tobin's voice.

Acting as though nothing were amiss, the other vehicles replied in turn before maintaining radio silence once again. Enjoying the silence, Rick took a long drink of water and opened a new pack of Tylenol, noting that they were using quite a lot of it this journey. With his head still aching, he closed his eyes and reclined his seat a little, knowing Daryl didn't need his help to find a suitable place.

"You sure you up for this?"

"Yeah," he muttered, not annoyed by the fact Daryl was questioning him. "The fresh air helped."

"You lucky he didn't get yah face, what with Ass Kicker's birthday comin' up. Pictures and shit, you know…"

"Yeah."

"Reckon she'll like the crib?"

"No," he said with certainty.

"Should I shut my pie hole?"

"Yeah, save your breath."

A comfortable silence ensued now, Daryl letting Rick get some more rest, for which he was grateful. Though he was frustrated by their never ending delays in returning home, Rick tried to find comfort in how close they were…in his opinion make it there that day, not with the need to evade the other group and then nightfall, but tomorrow was a sure thing. They'd be there tomorrow, and he was pinning his hopes on it. He missed Judith much more than he had thought he would, and he longed for the moment he could hold her again, and when she grabbed and pulled at his hair he would laugh rather than scold her for it. He'd read to her all day, even though he typically hated the task, and when she fell asleep on his chest at night, he'd let her stay there rather than putting her into the crib to sleep alone.

Half an hour passed before Daryl began slowing the car down, flashing the headlights to let those ahead know what they were doing. Rousing himself from the short sleep he had managed, Rick sat up and looked around, approving of the spot where Daryl pulled the car into the woods. He drove into the woods deep enough to hide their presence, turning the car around and making sure they'd be able to make a fast escape if they needed to. Feeling an overall improvement on his head ache, Rick took another long drink of water before stepping out of the car and getting to work. Wishing he was as quiet on his feet as Daryl always was, Rick loaded himself up with the rifle of his choice and sufficient ammunition, making sure he had a suitable scope and stand before they rushed back to the road.

Without a word they situated themselves in a spot that had good sight lines of the road, choosing a nice flat area upon which Rick could set up the rifle's stand. Taking care of their safety, they used their knives to create holes in the ground so they could jam the hand held mirrors into place, positioning them so that they could see behind themselves without moving. Laying down side by side on their fronts, Rick got comfortable with the M4 and looked down the scope, mentally preparing himself for what he might need to do. Throwing the heavy blanket over the both of them, Daryl slapped a pair of ear muffs around both their necks and then raised the binoculars to his eyes.

In less than sixty seconds, they were ready. Ten minutes passed, the peace broken only by a Walker that shuffled past without detecting them. Every passing minute served as a small reassurance that they weren't being followed, but they were not yet convinced of their safety. If he were the ones following a large, well armed group of survivors with the intention of robbing them, he'd keep plenty of distance between them. Having already spent two days following them, this group would know their routine well, and the fact that they were generally heading north. Abraham's decision to start veering west had been the right one.

"Thank you for what you did for Carl today," Rick muttered lowly. The way Daryl positioned himself between the shot gun and his son was not lost on Rick. "And for taking care of him after."

"Mmm," Daryl grunted predictably.

"What actually happened?" he enquired, still not knowing.

Daryl sighed, a grimace flickering across his face. "Pricks inside were surrendering, but the pricks outside were about to fire on us. Aaron was there, so he had to take one of them out. Chain reaction from there."

"And Carl?" he asked. "How did he end up covered in blood?"

This time Daryl didn't reply straight away, sighing softly. "He saved my ass. This other guy came up behind me outta no where. Carl got him 'fore he got me."

"Two to the neck, one to the face?" Rick asked, remembering the body he had observed when he went back inside.

"Yeah, that was Carl. Close range too…the guy fell forward onto him after it happened."

Not saying anymore, Rick tried to turn his focus back to the task at hand. He'd had only a brief moment in which to make sure that his son was okay, and given they had two hostages tied up in the gas station, there wasn't much time for genuine reassurance.

"What's gon' on with you and Carrie?"

Surprised by the sudden question about her, it took Rick a moment to respond. "What do you mean?'

Daryl just shrugged nonchalantly. "You two still knockin' boots? Bumpin' uglies?"

His mouth twisting in amusement, it was all Rick could do not to laugh. "Can't figure that out yourself?"

Daryl just shrugged again. "You put it like that, it's kinda obvious."

"Does Carl k-"

"He's oblivious."

"Good."

"Good? I'd say fucking fantastic…can you imagine the nuclear explosion if he found out you were stickin' it to someone who ain't his Mom? Someone he barely even knows?"

"Thank you, Daryl…that's exactly what I need to hear."

"I ain't here to sugar coat."

Rick sighed now, Daryl's concern more well placed than he realised give what Carl had overheard that morning. "What do you think he'd do?"

There was a long pause, Daryl looking through the binoculars as he thought. "You ever see those documentaries on cable? You know, like Animal Planet or something?"

"Sure."

"I saw one with this Warthog, right?" Daryl began, what looked like an actual smile flickering on his lips. "It's just taking a casual stroll, not a care in the world…"

"Go on," Rick prompted, intrigued by whatever had put a smile on Daryl's face.

"And then, outta fucking no where, there's this Hyena, and it just goes to town on this Warthog. It tears into it, he's ripping the guts out, and this Warthog's still alive, right? And he's trying to get away, he thrashing around, squealing, but this Hyena just don't let up. He keeps-"

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Rick cut him off, glaring at him. "I get it."

"Do yah?"

"I'm the Warthog."

"And Carl's the Hyena."

"I get it," he glared at him, returning his attention to the road.

"I ain't here to sugar coat," Daryl repeated. "Remember when you took his gun off him? That was just him getting started."

Indeed, Rick did remember that day. Hell, he'd probably never forget the moment Carl realised what was happening, the moment realisation crossed his face. Carl's explosive reaction had been the subject of whispered gossip for days. While Carl yelled and screamed at him, Rick endured it, letting his son get everything off his chest. He didn't understand what Rick had been trying to do for him. How could he, when the problem wasn't him, but what Rick had unintentionally taught him to do? Carl must have thought he was being punished for killing that boy, not realising that by trading his gun for a shovel, Rick was trying to reverse the damage he had done to him.

"That day he tried to move his things to a cell away from mine," Rick began curiously. "I know the only reason he came back was you."

"Mmm?"

"What did you say to him?"

"You don't want to know, you won't like it."

"I do."

"Alright. I told him I'd knock his teeth out one by one, and then give 'em back as a pretty little necklace."

Grimacing, Rick suspected it had been something like that. "Thanks," he said gratefully, despite the nature of the threat. Seeing Carl trying to move his belongings to a different cell had hurt more than he let on.

"Don't worry if you hates you…it means he still cares." Lowering the binoculars, Daryl looked at him critically. "So you and Carrie. What gives?"

"What gives?"

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, really," he denied, more for his benefit than Daryl's. "It's…just sex."

"Just sex…she okay with that?"

Rick hesitated, thinking back to their conversation that morning. That felt like a long time ago. "Actually…she's the one who said it."

Daryl gave a short laugh, raising his eyebrows at this. "Right…don't try to spoon her. That sit alright with you?"

"You worried about my heart, Dixon?"

"Shouldn't I? Don't these things have a way of getting complicated? People start caring when they shouldn't?"

"Yeah," he nodded lowly. Daryl's words were a little more accurate than he realised.

"Just sayin'…if it get's messy, Carl could get hurt."

"Carl has nothing to do with this…he won't find out," he denied.

"Kid ain't dumb."

"He didn't figure it out about Shane and Lori."

There was a heavy pause, Daryl turning back to his binoculars as he took a deep breath. "Thought we didn't talk about him."

"We don't…but I don't think Carl figured them out. Hell, he didn't even know what sex was when he found out Lori was pregnant."

"And he ain't put two and two together since then?"

"No." Rick sighed, knowing he didn't have to lie to Daryl. "I don't know for sure that he has or hasn't."

"But he was such a little shit to her…when we were on the road, at least," Daryl said, trying to be sensitive.

Thinking hard, Rick just shrugged. "I think he was picking up on the animosity. I don't know if he quite knew what was going on, but he took my side."

"He's never asked 'bout Judith?"

"Never."

They fell silent at this, both of them knowing the conversation shouldn't go any further. They had just come as close to saying out loud that Judith's paternity wasn't known as they ever had. Though Rick actively didn't think about that anymore, having meant it when he told Lori that the baby was his without question, he often worried that one day the truth would come out. Pete, through only his good intentions, had nearly thrown a wrench in the facade when they got to talking about Judith. With little else to do, Pete liked keeping meticulous records of the Alexandrians' medical history, and upon their arrival, that meant Judith too. The polite offer to narrow down her blood type had been steadfastly refused by Rick, not wanting to compromise her health if she ever did need a blood transfusion. While he hadn't actually admitted that he didn't know her father's blood type, Rick knew that Pete had caught on to the possibility. Since then, wary of the conversation coming up again, Rick had pointedly avoided Pete's offer to give Judith a check up.

"Shit," Daryl cursed, breaking Rick out of his thoughts. "Here they are…blue station wagon."

Immediately concentrating again, Rick felt vindicated to find that he had been right, that his instincts were still guiding him well. Though they lagged twenty minutes behind the convoy, the group from Ohio were still indeed following them, having not taken the threat of Rick's group seriously. He waited only long enough to ensure that it was only one car before he checked in their mirrors for Walkers. Seeing that the coast was clear, Rick threw the blanket off and got up onto one knee. Affording themselves the luxury of hearing protection, they put the ear muffs on as Daryl shifted a few feet away.

Breathing deeply, Rick adjusted the butt stock against his shoulder and then looked down the scope of the rifle, getting comfortable with the weapon in his hand.

"Two in the front…maybe two in the back," Daryl murmured. "They might have Kevlar on."

Rick listened to the muffled commentary as the car passed into his sights. Agreeing with the observation about the Kevlar, he allowed himself a moment to properly observe the people in the car, though he struggled to keep up with the moving vehicle. He knew what he needed to do to them, that gunning them down without warning was the best choice for his group. These people posed a significant threat even before they killed three of them and maimed another. The night Carrie had been lost these people had been looking for her too, wanting to use her to their advantage when they robbed them. With that in mind, and knowing he couldn't allow these people to get anywhere near Alexandria, Rick was entirely justified in the choice he made.

Breathing out slowly, he squeezed the trigger and began firing rapidly, the loud gunfire destroying the peaceful tranquilly of the woods. It was louder than he expected, but his aim was true and effective. The attack was over in seconds, bullets hammering the station wagon and shattering the glass, and before he could take stock of what he had done the vehicle veered off the road and vanished from his scope. An enormous boom echoed through the woods, birds taking flight from the trembling trees.

As the smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, Rick and Daryl shared a meaningful glance, but did not get up. Instead they looked back to the road and continued to wait, letting an entire minute pass before they were certain that there was not another car coming. Satisfied, they removed their earmuffs and got to their feet. Moving cautiously, they both raised their respective rifles as they headed for the road. Methodically approaching the blue station wagon, they checked for signs of movement, making sure none of the occupants were going to fire on them. Taking no chances, Rick and Daryl separated and approached the car from either side.

"Back door's open," Daryl growled, peering into the back seat and observing the occupants.

Giving the three people a quick once over, Rick checked there were no weapons easily available, noting that one of them was still alive, a soft groan coming from the front passenger. Leaving them for now, he went around to the trunk of the car and peered through the glass. Inside was a small arsenal of weapons, neatly arranged and organised in tubs and bags. Rifles, guns, grenades...hell, they even had a couple of police issue tasers. Seeing this only furthered Rick's understanding that he had done the right thing, that these people were dangerous and needed to be eliminated.

Breathing hard, Rick properly looked at the occupants, never flinching at the grisly sight of what he had done. The interior was spattered with blood and flesh, the three occupants torn apart by the large caliber rounds that had punctured straight through the kevlar vests they each wore. Still alive, the front passenger was heaving for breath, her lungs filling with blood as her eyes darted around. He was unsurprised to find that it was the leader of the group, the red haired woman who hadn't taken him as seriously as he told her too. If the situations were reversed, Rick suspected she might have gloated over the fact that she had won, but despite the threat she posed, Rick did not revel in her suffering. He recognised her expression, having seen it on the faces of many before her as they died.

He was momentarily tempted to let her die slowly, to continue choking on her own blood, but he empathised with her struggle. Though he denied remembering anything of being shot that day in Kings County, he in fact remembered the ordeal with painful clarity. He knew what torture it was to be choking on your own blood, remembering how desperately he tried to ask Shane to tell Lori that he loved her and the excruciating pain. Lowering the M4, he instead took out his Colt and promptly shot the woman in the head, ending her misery for her. Holstering his weapon again, Rick sighed and looked around the long road, revelling in the peaceful silence that had once again won out. But it was't the same as it had been a few minutes ago, the metallic smell of blood now invading his senses. While he had mostly become immune to the stench of rotting corpses, he wasn't quite yet accustomed to the smell of fresh blood.

"Hey," Daryl called out. Standing a few yards into the woods, he and Rick shared a long glance, one that spoke volumes of what they had just done. "We got a fourth."

The statement was really more of a question, Daryl seeking Rick's thoughts on what needed to be done next. Remembering what he had said that day outside of Terminus, that none of them should be allowed to live, he considered his next move very carefully.

"Let's go," he said plainly, carrying the M4 again. He wasn't pursuing the fourth person out of revenge or petty feud, but out of necessity.

Abandoning the car wreck, Rick followed Daryl into the woods and let him lead the way. Running to catch up, they made little effort to stay quiet, for the fourth occupant likely had little doubt that they were being followed. They didn't have to go far at all, with Daryl quickly tracking them down.

"There," he said, slowing to a stop and pointing into the distance.

Stopping beside him, Rick raised the M4 and began searching, his gaze quickly falling on a figure in the distance. They were running away, bent sideways as they clutched their lower leg where even at a distance, Rick could see blood flowing over their fingers. Feeling a pang of frustration, Rick fired at the ground just behind them, drawing the line at shooting a man in the back as he ran away. The close shot startled the person, and they faltered as they ran. Watching through the scope, he saw the man slowing to a stop, still bent over sideways as they tried to stem the bleeding from their calf. They made a single movement that angered Rick more than it should have…they raised their free hand in surrender.

"Come on you prick," he growled under his breath. "Get up…"

There was a long pause, Rick watching the surrendered man as his finger ever so slightly pulled the trigger. To shoot him now would be murder in cold blood…but it wouldn't be the first. He had executed the cop in Atlanta for little reason other than he had pissed him off, and only the other day he had killed two people with shots to the back of the head. But that had been a practicality, a necessity to ensure his own life was preserved. This felt different, and even after everything he had been through, Rick couldn't shoot a surrendering man in the back of the head.

Giving an exasperated sigh, Rick headed off towards the man, his eyes trained on him down the scope as Daryl followed and kept watch. The man's surrendering hand never wavered, though his entire body trembled in pain and fear as he awaited his approaching fate. He kept looking to his left, cringing as something came towards him from that direction. Though he was tempted to avert his attention, for surely it must be a Walker, Rick did not, keenly aware of the handgun that poked out of the back of the man's jeans.

"No funny business, Asshole," Daryl growled at him, using his crossbow to take down the Walker that was only a few yards away. "Yah hear me?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, looking around at them. His face was red and tear stained, and he looked at them both with a mixture of terror and relief. Unable to stand any longer, he slumped down to his knees, his left hand better able to clutch at his injured calf.

With Rick covering him, Daryl darted forward and divested him of the handgun, roughly patting him down in search of anything else. Satisfied that he was clear, Rick lowered the gun slightly and moved to stand in front of the man, titling his head as he peered down at him. It was one of the men who had surrendered outside the construction site, the man who denied that their leader was with them there.

"What's your name?"

"Does it matter?" he asked softly, grimacing as he clenched his leg.

"Just being polite," Rick explained. He paused for a moment, allowing he gravity of the man's situation to sink down upon him. Lingering, he looked around the peaceful woods again. Though he desperate to get back to Alexandria, he knew it would only take a few days for claustrophobia inside the walls to set in once more. "Why's your group still following mine?"

"We're not," he sobbed painfully, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. "We're not following you…we were heading this way all along."

"You always travel in Kevlar?"

Caught out, the man at least had the decency to look apologetic. "Look, you know how it is….it's every man for himself these days. Every group for themselves."

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "Really, I do. But that's not going to stop me protecting mine. So you'll tell me exactly why you're still following my group," he continued, lowering the M4 and raising his Colt instead. "Or I'll shoot your other leg."

"What do you mean?" he cried, looking at Rick fearfully. He turned to Daryl now, as though expecting help from him.

"What do you want from us?"

"What everyone wants!" he shouted, his voice growing weaker. "Food! Water! A decent place to take a shit in the mornings!"

"What makes you think we've got that?"

He gave a bitter laugh. "The two trucks crammed full of supplies? We saw what you took from Walmart, and it's obvious you're heading somewhere. Someone got a baby back where you're from, huh? We saw the crib, the toys…a girl, right?"

"What's your interest in baby toys?"

Shuddering, the man lowered himself to the ground and pulled his injured leg around, using both his hands to hold it. Gritting his teeth in pain, he answered Rick as clearly as he could. "Some place has got a baby…must be safe. Must be secure…can't blame us for wanting in on that."

"Haven't you got your own place in Ohio? Yeah, I know about that." Gauging the mans behaviour, he wondered how much information he could get out of him before he succumbed to his injury. "How many are in your group?"

The man shrugged, looking at the ground.

"Look at me," Rick growled, stepping closer and pointing his gun at the man's good leg. "Look me in the eye. Your group from Ohio, is there an asshole named Granger?" There was a flash of recognition across the man's face, indicating that he did. "Of course there is…all you assholes know one another."

"You're wrong about us," the man said quietly, his face pale and sweaty. "We're not assholes…we're just trying to survive."

"I sympathise," he muttered. Seemingly satisfied, Rick looked to Daryl now in order to seek his opinion. "We done here?"

"I reckon so," he nodded.

Without another word, they simultaneously turned on their heel and began to leave.

"Wait, please!" the man called out in anguish. "Don't leave me for it! Please!"

Rick ignored him, seeing another Walker from the corner of his eye.

"Come on! I can't die like that, not like that! Please!"

They made it a few more yards before Daryl slowed to a stop, his shoulders slumping a little. He looked at Rick, his expression conveying a great deal without words. Understanding what he wanted, Rick went to turn back to the man, but Daryl stopped him. Muttering something under his breath about _"...heavy liftin',"_ he turned back. Before the man even had time to thank him, Daryl shot him, the single gunshot ringing out through the woods.

Although there was a Walker approaching, Daryl paused where he stood and looked up into the canopy, perhaps taking a moment to himself. Waiting patiently, Rick pawed the ground with the toe of his boot, wanting to get on with things.

"Gotta say," Daryl grunted, his mouth twisted into a grimace. "It is nice having a decent place to take a shit."

Remembering what the man had said, Rick nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"Who the fuck is Granger?" Daryl asked next. Looking over his shoulder, he kept track of the incoming Walker.

"Can't say," Rick answered, thinking of his promise to Carrie. The story of what had happened between her and that man was not his to tell.

"Why is he an asshole?"

"Can't say."

"Carrie?" Daryl deduced. "There's a lot about her you can't say."

"Yeah."

"She got stories then, huh?"

"Too many."

There was another short pause before Daryl sighed loudly, squinting at Rick. "Let's get the fuck outta here."

They set off without another word, both of them needing the silence to process what had just happened. Despite their closeness, some of the things they did for survival were not discussed again, even in private. The people he had killed today were just another addition to the list Rick had lost track of, just more faces that presented themselves to him in dreams, in the moments he lay awake at night questioning himself.

He and Daryl didn't need to discuss what had to happen next, and they simply went about the task with their usual efficiency. First returning to the Hyundai, they brought it out of the woods and back onto the road, backing it up so that they could transfer the weapons and supplies directly from the station wagon into their trunk. Just like the supply run group that Granger was part of, these people had their supplies well organised in plastic tubs and bags. Rifles, guns, grenades and tasers…they were all moved from the station wagon into the Hyundai, Rick leaving Daryl to take care of the food and small stash of medical supplies.

Checking the bodies, he took their guns and weapons and tossed them into the containers, annoyed when he got blood all over his hands. Using the bottled water belonging to the dead woman to wash his hands, he continually kept looking back down the road, half waiting for another car to turn up. He wondered if the rest of the group were still back in the town where they had first attacked them, and how long they would wait before realising that the five group members were not coming back to them. It was unlikely that the rest of the group would try to track down Rick's if their own did not return, for by the time they realised, they'd be long gone. Picturing the map of supply runs in his head, his focus honing in on the city of Marion, Ohio, Rick briefly entertained the idea of one day going to check it out, to keep an eye on them.

Telling himself to take things one day at a time, and that he had far too many priorities to take care of back in Alexandria, Rick put that thought right out of his mind. He and Daryl finished up quickly and then hit the road, and having plenty of their own they didn't even bother siphoning gas from the tank. While their convoy typically travelled between forty and fifty miles per hour to conserve gas and to minimise accidents from stray Walkers, Daryl floored it, he and Rick revelling in the fast and efficient pace at which they wished they could travel every day. It took only ten minutes for them to catch up to their convoy, Daryl flashing the headlights to get their attention as he regretfully slowed down in order to keep the pace.

"Radio check," Rick began, making sure Abraham at the front of he convoy knew they had returned.

"Is my ass still itching?" Abraham asked after everyone else had checked in.

Rick hesitated before answering, knowing that his answer would indicate to everyone else what had happened…what he had done. Aidan was already mistrustful of what happened the day he encountered Granger, and Carrie…despite her assurance that she understood his intentions, he couldn't stop thinking about the look of fear on her face that morning, of how she had seen him treating that woman. Self-consciously, he didn't want her to know what he had done…but the evidence was in the trunk of the car, and so there was no use in denying it.

"Everything's fine. Let's the take the fastest route home."

* * *

A gentle knock on the window roused Rick out of his restless sleep, the sound making him jerk awake in alarm. As his heart rate slowed and he rubbed his eyes, he turned and looked out the window, seeing that it was Carrie who had roused him upon request. He nodded to her and then opened the door, cringing at the cool early morning, and he hastened to get out and shut the door before Carl got cold.

"Hey," he said softly, seeing that Carrie was leaving. "How was watch?" he enquired out of habit, stretching his arms out.

"Quiet," she answered, echoing his yawn with one of her own.

As he had hoped, his question prompted her to linger a little without being asked. Twenty four hours ago they'd been screwing around together, but what had happened since then had once again put a damper on their mood, and no doubt her opinion of him. Since it all happened there hadn't been a single opportunity for them to talk in private, for them to regroup after how she had seen him behaving towards the woman they were holding hostage. Rick worried that her assurances of her trust was not enough…he wanted to explain it to her, to make it clear that what she had seen was not his usual character. But on the other hand, perhaps now it was his turn to trust her judgement. While he'd known that Carrie was a smart and intelligent woman, he'd already learnt that he didn't give her enough credit. Her strategic truce with Nicholas showed that. If she told him that she understood his behaviour, that she trusted his judgement, then perhaps he needed to trust her in return.

With her lingering there in front of him, Rick started to say something, to take a step closer to her. Even if he occasionally struggled with the words, he at least knew how to communicate with a kiss, to gauge her feelings by her response to him. But tonight it wasn't not afforded to them, movement from inside the car catching both their attention. Carl, stretched out on the back seat, was slowly sitting up. Watching him apprehensively, the other worry about Carl began to boil away in his stomach. Rick had been spent all afternoon and night worrying about what he'd heard at the construction site, constantly fearing that Carl was going to bring it up, that he would be mad. Observing Carl now, Rick breathed a sigh of relief to see that he wasn't quite awake, that he was just getting comfortable. He turned back to Carrie, the appeal of kissing her broadening, but he was disappointed yet again.

"I should get to bed," she said softly, looking at Carl.

"Sure," he nodded, hiding his disappointment. "Where are you sleeping?"

"I'll take Michonne's sleeping bag in the back of the delivery van."

Letting her go, Rick rubbed his eyes as he looked around their makeshift campsite, making sure that all was quiet. He waited until Carrie made it into the back of the delivery van before taking a brief walk. Their vehicles had been parked in a circular formation, creating a space in the middle where they were marginally safer from Walkers. Despite this, everyone was sleeping in the vehicles tonight, wanting to minimise the time they spent packing up their supplies the following morning.

Progress that afternoon had been frustratingly slow, not that this should have come at a surprise. Though the roads they travelled were relatively clear, that didn't exactly make them suitable for speedy travel. The closer to the major cities they traveled the more road blocks they had to clear. Utilising the major highways meant they were following a path already cleared by previous drivers, paths that snaked in and around existing road blocks and were only wide enough for a single vehicle to squeeze through. Many a time Abraham was forced to use the bigger military truck to clear the way, pushing aside the bumpers and debris, widening the path so the large delivery truck could get through.

They had almost come to a complete stand still halfway down Highway 7, the collapse of an over head sign making it difficult to get the trucks around. They had no choice but to create another path for the trucks to take around the collapse, but manually moving the abandoned cars out of the way had consumed over two hours of their time. Nevertheless they were not allowing themselves to be disheartened, and when night drew nearer, no one gave any indication that they should be stopping. By blessed luck the alternate roads they took to avoid the highway were clearer and a little more suitable for night time driving. They'd pushed themselves through the darkness until almost eleven thirty, when Tobin's exhaustion nearly saw him running the minivan off the road. With each driver as equally exhausted, Rick had made the reluctant call that they should stop to rest for a while.

Stopping on the first suitable stretch of road, they quickly set about refilling their water bottles from the canteen and organising a watch. In less than fifteen minutes the entire group had eaten and either retreated off to sleep or to take watch. That night they were all taking a short shift for a few hours, four of them taking watch at a time to as to help one another stay awake. As soon as it was light out, they'd eat again, maybe boil some water to make coffee, and then haul ass once more.

Finishing his check of their camp, Rick lingered in the centre of the cars, feeling unsure of himself. Looking over at the back of the delivery van, whose door was slightly ajar, he felt the temptation to go and open it, to look in on Carrie even though he had no genuine reason to. She'd still be awake…she wouldn't likely reject a simple kiss goodnight. Mentally scolding himself, he started heading back for the Hyundai, knowing he had other things to do, other places to be. Carl was alone in the car, and Rick had left him there only to do a quick round of the camp, not to go making out with Carrie.

Rather than returning to the driver's seat, he instead opened the trunk of the car and turned on his flashlight. Rifling through his pack, he opened one of the internal zips and slipped his hand right down to the bottom of the pocket. Blindly feeling the small plastic sleeves, he removed one and looked at it under his flashlight, observing the minuscule transmitter and receiver. With everything else that had been going on during the supply run, Rick had almost forgotten about what he had scavenged from the Police station in Silverpine, the surveillance equipment he would use to listen in on Deanna. While he didn't mistrust her good intentions, he knew he and his group's beliefs hadn't exactly been well received by the Alexandrian's. If they were going to have any chance at making these people assimilate to the world they refused to acknowledge, Rick needed to know what they were thinking, what their leader was thinking. That, in combination with everything that had happened with Aidan, it was imperative he know what was discussed in the Monroe household.

Taking one of the bugs and the police laptop, Rick closed the trunk and resumed his place in the front passenger seat. Getting comfortable, he stretched his legs across to the driver's seat and adjusted the pillow behind his back. Taking a moment to ensure that Carl was still sleeping soundly, he opened the laptop and gave thanks that he had thought to charge it up when they were at the prison. He took comfort in the familiar login screen, easily gaining access thanks to the details he had found in the accompanying paper work. Thanking Silverpine for their poorer than normal security practices, Rick booted up the software he needed and got to work. He dreaded having to use the MacBook computers Eugene had requested for the surveillance systems, having never quite accustomed himself to that system. These Police laptops though…he knew them like the back of his hand, even after a year and a half.

After registering the bug's serial number, and entering a "Monroe - Living Room" as the operation name, Rick spent about half an hour getting the bug set up and ready to record, running into the occasional hitch that was remedied quickly. It was imperative that it be ready to plant as soon as possible, knowing that he'd only have one opportunity to capture the first conversation Aidan and Deanna had about the supply run. Wondering if he'd be able to convince Maggie to plant it for him, her presence in Deanna's home unquestioned, he pulled some headphones into the laptop and ensured that the bug was working. He had tried out a ten second recoding of Carl's breathing, and was pleased to find that it had worked. All he'd need to do was get it planted, and then use the laptop to make it start recording.

Speaking of Carl, Rick took notice that his son was sleeping rather restlessly, and he kept a close eye on him in the back seat while he worked. Fiddling around with the settings, he set up a log in and password that would keep prying eyes out of the loop. Though he trusted his group, there were certain members that he didn't want privy to his spying on Deanna, such as Michonne. Not only would she not approve, Rick wanted her to be able to settle in the way she was trying to so much…he didn't want to compromise that for her. Just as he was double checking that the log in details worked, he looked up as he heard Carl's breathing change, watching as he shifted around.

Nightmares were not unusual for any of them, but during the supply run they'd all been rather lucky to sleep well, likely due to their sheer exhaustion. Tonight though, Carl's lucky streak had broken, though given what had happened to him only that morning Rick was unsurprised. Earlier when the two of them had taken watch together, Rick had addressed what had happened, including the fact that Carl had been forced to kill someone. Having a shotgun pointed at you and then shooting someone at close range had definitely taken it's toll on Carl's spirit, and his mood had been subdued all day, particularly so when Rick had brought up the topic.

Hearing Carl moaning softly, Rick felt torn between awakening his son and simply letting the nightmare run its course. At home Carl's nightmares were easier to address, particularly as the two of them shared the main bedroom. While the King sized bed afforded them more than enough space to forget they had a bedfellow, it simultaneously allowed Rick to quickly comfort Carl. A hand to the shoulder, and elbow to the back, it didn't matter, their closeness to one another seemed to help. When they had first moved in and allocated bedrooms, Carl had secretly asked Carol to make sure he and Rick were sharing, for which Rick was glad…the notion of sleeping alone was strange for all of them.

Coming to a decision, Rick cleared his throat and then firmly called Carl's name. Almost immediately Carl woke with a jolt, freezing where he lay as he came back to reality.

"It's just me," Rick said, turning his attention back to the laptop. Carl wouldn't want him to make a big deal of this. "You were dreaming."

Carl exhaled slowly, nodding his head. "Thanks."

A few moments passed in silence, Carl coughing a little. He shifted around and got comfortable again, adjusting the pillows and blankets. Just as Rick thought he might be going back to sleep, he spoke.

"What are you doing?"

"Nonnoya."

"Nonnoya?"

"None o' yah business."

Carl snorted in amusement, sighing as he gave up on his enquiry. "I'm hungry," he muttered to himself, slowly sitting up.

"Hi Hungry, I'm Dad," Rick replied on reflex.

"You're not funny," Carol scolded him, turning on his flashlight and looking into their plastic tub of food.

"I know. I just told you, I'm Dad."

This elicited an actual laugh from Carl, and after everything that had happened yesterday, Rick was grateful to hear it. "Geez, you're on fire. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"What?"

"Harry Potter…come on, you read me the first two books."

"Oh yeah," he muttered, remembering how he had hated every moment of reading out loud. Despite his hatred of the task, he had read to Carl every night he was home, glad that he had taken an interest in books.

Hearing the sound of foil tearing, Rick looked into the back seat to see Carl opening a can of Pringles, and his stomach twisted as he took one and ate it. Shaking his head when Carl offered him some, he looked back at the laptop and tried to distract himself. Carl had no idea that he was eating food that belonged to the people Rick had killed the previous day, and though they'd certainly eaten worse things, a few stray dogs coming to mind, it was a difficult concept for Rick to process.

"Dad…what's your favourite colour?"

He frowned at this, surprised by the sudden question. "I don't know," he shrugged.

"Seems like something you should really know."

Sighing, Rick thought hard, trying to come up with something for Carl's sake. "Yellow."

"Why?"

"It's…cheerful," he concluded, hoping that was a good enough explanation. "I know yours. Green. Emerald green though, like the Hulk….it's still green, right?"

"Yeah. Mom's was blue, wasn't it?"

"Yes…more like turquoise though."

Silence fell for a few moments, but then Carl groaned from the back seat, sounding frustrated. "I can't get my hand in the Pringles jar," he answered upon Rick's query. Frustrated and hungry, he tipped the can a little so that he could continue eating. "Is this how adulthood happens? One day you can't fit your hand in the Pringles jar, and then you can't have fun anymore?"

"Adults get to have a different type of fun," Rick muttered absently, minimising a pop up requesting he connect to the Internet.

"Do you mean sex?"

"Yes. I was hoping that might go over your head though, so yeah, you're growing up."

"Of course I'd get that…you're the one who told me about sex."

There was a heavy silence now, an uncomfortable moment in which they both knew that the topic of conversation was leading them to something they needed to talk about. Having spent the whole day and night on the edge of a knife, Rick was ready to initiate the conversation about Carrie and get it over with. Whichever way it was going to go, he knew it couldn't be avoided anymore.

"We need to talk about something you might have heard yesterday. Something that was said at the construction site."

Starting out cautiously, Rick watched his son from the corner of his eye, noting the way he tensed up a little, confirming what Rick had worried about. Though he hadn't said anything about it, Carl had definitely taken notice of what the man with the shotgun said. For a moment Rick wondered if he could tell Carl the truth…given that his mood had been rather subdued that day, perhaps now was the right time. They had the opportunity to talk about it, to discuss what it did and didn't mean, and why. Perhaps this was an opportunity.

"Is _fucking_ another word for sex?"

Rick's heart began to sink, recognising Carl's icy tone of voice, one that indicated that not all was well. He'd used that tone the day Rick had brought the Woodbury residents back to the prison, and then again the day the prison fell.

"Yes."

"So you and Carrie had sex?"

Carl's tone was like acid now, and it burned whatever confidence Rick had mustered. "No," he lied abruptly, further damning himself to his deception. "We didn't."

There was a long pause, and knowing what he'd need to do to make his lie believed, Rick looked Carl in the eye and repeated it. Carl seemed to be very carefully considering his father's answer, trying to gauge his truthfulness by way of making the moment even more uncomfortable. Feeling a cold shiver run down his spine, Rick questioned whether he was doing the right thing…but he knew he was. A fourteen year old didn't need to know about his father's sex life, not his private business.

"Carl?"

Again, Carl paused before continuing. "If you didn't have sex with her, then why would someone say that you did?"

"I don't know. Maybe he saw Carrie and I the other night in Franklin, when we found her."

"Why? What happened then?" Carl pressed.

Thinking back to that night, Rick tried to come up with something, something that would satisfy Carl's need for a plausible story. "She was soaking wet. I helped her take her shirt off, and I gave her my jacket. Those people were already trying to find her when we were too…they probably saw that and read more into it than there really was."

There was silence yet again, and Rick's heart pounded, almost certain that Carl did not believe the lie he had just been told. "So…there's nothing going on?"

"No," he repeated, sticking to his story and reminding himself he was doing the right thing. "Would it upset you if there was?" he asked, trying to lighten his voice.

Carl paused before answering. "Kind of, yeah…" There was another short pause, but when Rick heard the crunching sound that indicated Carl was eating again, he knew a major blow had been avoided.

"I know we talked about what happened when you and I were on watch," Rick continued, not wanting the conversation to falter. "But we can talk about it more if you need to."

"Do you need to talk about it?"

Rick's truthful answer was no…what had happened that day had happened before, and it would happen again. He was resigned to that knowledge, he'd accepted it. But just like before, Rick lied again, fearing that in this case, the truth might teach Carl to not talk about the things he needed to. "Yeah…not yet though. Soon."

"Same, I guess…"

Not saying any more on the subject, Rick closed the laptop and slipped the transmitter back into the tiny plastic wrapper. Stuffing it into the tightest pocket on his jeans, he glanced up at Carl, his expression warning him to not ask what he was doing. Knowing what that look meant, Carl averted his eyes and then got comfortable again, the crunch of the Pringles filling the car once again. As soon as Rick's hands were empty, Carl leant forward and held out the jar of Pringles, offering him some again.

"Smokey Bacon."

Reaching out gratefully, Rick grit his teeth when he realised that Carl was right, that the difficulty in fitting his hand into the long tube was more frustrating than it should be. Muttering under his breath, he was pleased to note that his struggles elicited another laugh from Carl, particularly so when the potato chips broke between his fingers.

"They don't taste as good when they're broken, do they," Carl joked.

"No," he was forced to agree. "They don't."

Pulling a face, Rick accustomed himself to the taste of the artificial flavours once more, and in the darkness and warmth of the car he let his mind wander to their plans to one day have real bacon in Alexandria. Getting comfortable again, he pulled his blanket up and over his knees as he settled bak and closed his eyes, the sound of his son breathing and the prospect of their imminent arrival home helping him fall asleep swiftly.

* * *

A/N - Just fyi, I'm not familiar with the Washington area, what the roads and highways are like, etc. Everything I wrote is based off my best guesses according to Google maps, so if there are any readers local to the area who though "wtf are they doing that for, even in the apocalypse?", please forgive me, and just kinda go with it!

Final chapter next week, AND maybe a preview of the new story if I can find a good section to insert at the end. Thanks for the reviews, enjoy the new episode that should be airing soon.


	45. Chapter 45

Dawn waited for no one, and despite Carrie's measly few hours of sleep the previous night, she awoke the moment the first slithers of light began shining through the windscreen of the delivery van. Warm in the back, and comfortable despite the way the foot of Judith's new crib was pressed against her back, Carrie cracked open her eyes, glad to see she wasn't the only one awake. Inches away from her, Rosita was awake in her own sleeping bag, the two women having moved closer together for warmth during the night.

"It's a trick," Rosita mumbled, closing her eyes again. "Don't fall for it."

"What is?"

"The sunrise. Stay asleep."

Carrie grinned at this, amused by Rosita's reluctance to get up. Lifting her head, she looked through the windscreen at the sky. "But it looks beautiful."

"You're just saying that."

"Yeah, I am…it looks awful out there."

At this remark, Rosita actually opened her eyes and looked. Her expression softened when she saw that Carrie had tricked her, and she gave a dramatic sigh. "Alright, it's beautiful. But I still don't want to get up."

"I'm going to do it," Carrie decided, fumbling around the find the zip on her sleeping bag. The faster she opened the sleeping bag and leapt out of her warm bed, the easier it would be.

"No," Rosita moaned, protectively grabbing her own zipper.

"Come on…"

"No."

"I'll make you tea."

"There's no tea left."

Carrie faltered at this. "What?"

"There's none left in our kit, and the rest are in the trucks. Good luck getting permission to open them just for a tea bag."

Giving up on the day already, despite their imminent arrival in Alexandria, Carrie closed her eyes and snuggled back down. "Alright, I'm staying in bed. I do not need to pee…I do not need to pee."

"That's the spirit."

They enjoyed perhaps another thirty seconds before the back doors of the delivery van opened without warning, Daryl telling them to rise and shine, or else. Crying out softly, both woman buried their faces a little while longer, making the moment last for as long as they could before finally giving in. Opening the zip with a flourish, Carrie threw off her sleeping bag and grit her teeth against the cool morning air, rubbing her eyes as she found her weapons and gun. Though they wouldn't be lingering to have much of a breakfast, the camp stove was already boiling water, Nicholas and Tobin organising hot drinks for them to travel with. Greeting them, she peered into the plastic tub that normally contained all of their tea and coffee, annoyed to see that Rosita was right. They were indeed out of green tea…all the tea in fact.

"Another glorious morning," Abraham declared gruffly, stretching his arms above his head after climbing down from atop the military truck. "It makes me sick."

"Always a pleasure," Carrie muttered, patting him on the arm as she and Rosita passed.

Joining up with Michonne, the three of them headed into the trees to make a quick bathroom stop before their departure. Calling shotgun, she took care of herself first before standing watch for the others. The three of them making quick work of the task, they headed back for where the others were packing up, Carrie catching sight of a Walker near by. Not wanting it to get back to the others and cause a distraction, she withdrew her knife and confidently approached it from behind. The actual killing of the Walker posed no problem, but as more blood than expected flowed from the base of the neck she quickly tried wrenching her knife back.

Giving an embarrassingly loud yelp, Carrie lost her footing in the soft ground and promptly slipped down to her knees, cringing in disgust when momentum moved her forward onto the dead Walker. As Michonne and Rosita rushed over, she merely wrenched her knife out from the base of the Walkers neck and then looked down at herself, completely exasperated.

"You alright?" Rosita asked, tentatively approaching on the soft ground before helping Carrie back to her feet.

Stumbling up out of the mud, Carrie nodded and looked down at herself again. Maggie's jacket, which needed to be returned to her, was now covered in blood spatter, and the lower half of both her legs were covered in mud. Grumbling under her breath, Carrie sighed as she saw Michonne's expression. After ascertaining that she was alright, Michonne shook her head and slowly began to clap.

"Ha, ha, ha," she teased.

Knowing she deserved it, having relentlessly mocked Michonne the day she fell ass first into mud as she relieved herself, Carrie just grit her teeth and nodded. Her shoulder's slumping, she had no choice but to walk back to the cars covered in mud and to let them clean her up. Working quickly, for their departure would not be delayed for mere cleanliness, Michonne and Rosita splashed water over her hands and helped her clean up, using a stick to wipe the worst of it off her jeans.

"Here," Daryl muttered, passing her the red rag he carried in his back pocket. "There's blood all over your face and neck."

Though she questioned how clean the cloth was, having seen him cleaning Carl up with it the day before, she took it gratefully, using her reflection in the car windows to wipe herself down. Giving it back, she looked around the camp to see what they was that needed to be done, and quickly occupied herself with helping to top up the drinking water in each vehicle. It took less than five minutes for their group to be ready for departure, and as the prospect of arriving in Alexandria grew nearer, Carrie knew her less than ideal start to the day was insignificant. She had food in her stomach and a group she trusted…and they were about to take her to the safe community behind strong walls. Today was a good day.

"Carrie," Rick called out, approaching her.

Looking around, she maintained a poker face when she saw that he had made her a hot drink. Well accustomed to the skills of her favourite downtown barista, Carrie had long ago developed a strong dislike for instant coffee. Nevertheless, a drink had been made with her in mind, and she was not too wasteful to turn it down. She'd choke it down if she had to.

"Thank you," she said, gratefully taking the travel mug from him. He just nodded and then gestured to the Hyundai, his request clear. However when he went to leave, no doubt having other things to take care of, she grabbed his sleeve urgently. "How did you…" Trailing off, she smiled as she turned the mug around and gestured to the tea bag that hung from underneath the lid. "I thought there were none left."

"I saved it for you last night," he said nonchalantly.

With that said, he turned away and headed back over to Abraham, the two of them discussing their plans for what must be the third time. A strange feeling settled in the put of Carrie's stomach, a part of her feeling like he had simultaneously brushed her off and been thoughtful of her. It was an odd feeling, but she tried not to read into it. Seeing that Carl was waiting by the car, she headed over and made small talk with him, offering the front seat just in case he wanted to ride shot gun next to his dad. He politely refused her offer though, and Glenn's arrival with two comic books in hand explained this.

"Okay, you're going to need to take me through this from beginning to end," he said in exasperation.

"Can't you just-"

"I'm not siding with you just because you disagree with Michonne. Make your case."

"Fine," Carl said proudly, opening the first comic book with a flourish.

As Carl launched into an in depth discussion about Werewolves and swimming, something that had been the subject of heated debate for days, Carrie listened on in amusement, sipping at her tea. It was nice to see him animated and smiling after yesterday, his affect following the sudden attack being rather low. Taking her last opportunity to stand for a while, Carrie kept watch on this side of the cars as she awaited Rick and the others, unsure of when she'd have the opportunity to stop again.

While she waited, she started thinking of Alexandria again, feeling nervousness growing in the pit of her stomach. A few streets of houses protected by a wall…electricity, running water…it still sounded too good to be true. There was a part of her that still felt like it wasn't real, that despite with Rick and everyone else were striving for, there was really nothing waiting for them in Washington. She remembered how it felt the day Sue and Tim came rushing back to their group as they went scavenging through a neighbourhood, telling them excitedly about the major stock pile of food they had found. The couponer's house had been a God send to their group, and she remembered in the simple pleasure of using toilet paper again, of having a toothbrush and being able to wash her hair. At the time it had been the epitome of luxury…it would be nothing compared to the comforts of Alexandria.

Thankfully the others began filing into the cars, Carl's detailed explanation continuing as he and Glenn took their places in the back seat. Waiting for Rick, for she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to stand, Carrie lingered a little while longer, smiling at him when he came over. However he didn't return her smile, merely giving her a polite nod. Again feeling like he was brushing her off, even though he wasn't, she kept her poker face as she opened the passenger door and went to get in.

"Dammit, wait," he said urgently, spotting something.

He rushed around to her side, grimacing to himself. Stepping aside for him, Carrie watched as he leant into the passenger footwell and picked up what looked like a reinforced briefcase, the emblem indicating that it was a Police laptop. Watching as he carried it around to the trunk of the car, his eyes avoiding hers, she wondered what he had been using it for. It hadn't been there when they stopped last night to make camp…was that why he had asked her to wake him at five o'clock that morning?

"Is everything okay?" she asked as he closed the trunk.

He looked startled by her perceptiveness, and there was a moment of hesitation in his eyes. Clearing his throat, he gave her a reassuring nod as he came around to the drivers side of the car. Subtly gesturing to Carl in the back seat, he silently explained. Accepting this, and not letting herself dwell on the strange way he was making her feel, Carrie just nodded and then took her seat. She could spend hours trying to read into the subtleties of each and every gesture and conversation between herself and another person, but it wouldn't get her anything except bitten fingernails and an array of poor conclusions. Trusting Rick's explanation, she focused her attention back on the things she should, such as the fact their convoy was departing. Her excitement grew exponentially, as did her nerves.

They travelled in a comfortable atmosphere for two hours, Carl occasionally engaging she and Rick in the debate with Glenn, though Carrie noted that Rick made a point of listening and nodding, but definitely not getting involved. Given that it was Michonne who Carl generally held these debates with, she figured this was a strategic move on Rick's part. Thinking on that, Carrie looked forward to the idea of one day playing a game of scrabble against her, suspecting that she would be a formidable wordsmith. It was the little thoughts like this that got Carrie through the morning, her excitement about their impending arrival filling her with hope for the future.

Travelling on back roads and only occasionally taking Highway 7, they travelled for a little over two hours before they stopped for gas, needing to top up before the final leg of the journey. Distracting herself, Carrie volunteered for the task of pumping gas, fearing that if she took watch she'd be metaphorically chewing her fingernails in nervousness. But with every pump of the handle, ever strain of her arms and shoulders, she was getting closer and closer to her new home. She was so close now she could almost taste it. Forty minutes later they were back on the road again, and she wasn't surprised when Rick took the driver's seat again. She got the feeling it was not because he didn't like or trust other people driving, but that he actually enjoyed it. Still nervous about their impending arrival, Carrie tried her best to relax a little, to put her head back and enjoy the scenery out the window.

"Carrie."

"Mmm?" she mumbled, lifting her head. Rubbing her eyes, she realised that her poor night of sleep had gotten the better of her, and she had fallen asleep unexpectedly. She looked around at Rick, recognising his voice as the one who roused her.

"Look ahead."

Following his instructions, Carrie frowned as she looked forward, seeing only the back of the truck ahead of them. Rick just smiled and pointed forward again, glancing into the back seat to make sure that Carl was also watching. Waiting patiently, Carrie took a moment to enjoy the scenery outside, to enjoy the fast pace of the cars as they sped down the highway road that was clear of abandoned cars.

"What's the-"

"Look!" Rick implored, cutting her question off.

Exasperated, Carrie turned her head forward again, but this time she caught what it was he wanted her to see. As the road ahead of them curved and the truck moved out of the way, Carrie silently gasped as she saw the expansive valley below. The city of Washington was below, and in the most regard looking just as it had before the outbreak, before civilisation collapsed. The Washington Monument stood proudly, the sunlight glinting off it and reminding her that despite everything, some things still remained. Enjoying the skyline, which was admittedly a little lower to the ground than Manhattan's, she took in what she thought might be the Lincoln Memorial, and the Capitol building.

"Worth waking up for?" Rick enquired.

Carrie nodded in silence, not sure of what to say. Seeing something like the Washington Monument again wasn't something she'd ever anticipated, wasn't something she'd ever thought would bring her hope. Yet that's exactly what it filled her with, the hope and longing for her future rendering her speechless. Reflecting back on who she had been three weeks ago, a mindless wanderer with dehydration and hunger that was never fully relieved, she could hardly believe where she was now. She'd spend such a long time wishing to die, happily welcoming the relief it would bring…and now she was approaching her future. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Rick and gave him a short smile before turning back to the view and watching it disappear as their car turned down the highway.

"Was it as good as seeing it last time?" Rick enquired, glancing at Carl in the back.

"Better," he replied. "This time we know what we're going to."

At Carl's words, the nerves Carrie had been feeling all day suddenly bloomed in her stomach once again, and she felt her hands beginning to shake. Her fears that someone was about to pull the rug out from underneath her, while not rational, still preyed on her mind. She wasn't going to believe it until she was there, and even then it was going to be difficult. Glancing at Rick again, she wished she had the words to express her gratitude to him, knowing that his decision to let a complete stranger join his group was not something he did lightly, or often. She knew what she wanted to say, she knew she wanted to tell him that she owed him for so much more than keeping her alive. But no combination of words she put together felt like enough, felt adequate to convey what she felt.

"You nervous?" Rick asked perceptively, looking at her as he drove.

Carrie paused before answering, knowing that she could be honest with him. "Yeah," she said quietly. She felt the urge to wring her hands together, to find a pen and start twirling it in her fingers like she did beneath the table at business meetings. "Were you?"

"What, nervous? No" he said, raising his eyebrows. "I was terrified."

Carrie managed a small smile at this, his honesty putting her at ease. "Is that why you punched Aaron when you first me him?"

Rick nodded, his eyes darting up to the rear view mirror to look at Carl, who was still talking with Glenn. "I didn't want to go…I didn't believe it was real. It wouldn't have been the first place I took my family that wasn't safe."

"That thought has crossed my mind," she admitted. "That's it's not real, that you're all just pretending or something."

He laughed shortly. "You'll figure it's real the moment you step under that hot shower…we're about thirty minutes out."

Although she echoed his laugh, Carrie was only marginally comforted. She didn't need her nerves to indicate how important this was to her. This was the start of her new life, and it was starting in thirty minutes. Trying to distract herself to pass the time, she listened to the conversation in the back seat, quickly catching up on their new topic of focus.

"Wait…Dumbledore dies?" Carl said quietly. "When?"

"You didn't know?" Glenn asked with a frown.

"I'm only on the fourth book."

"You've been reading that the entire trip!"

"It's a long book!" he protested defensively. "When does Dumbledore die?" he asked again, sounding heart broken.

Glenn panicked now, trying to recover from his revelation. "Relax, I was just joking. Dumbledore doesn't die, he's the most po-"

"Yeah right, like I believe you now. Next thing you'll tell me one of the Weasley's die."

Not knowing what to say, Glenn just looked out the window.

"You're kidding me…" Carl groaned. "Which one? Is it Percy? Tell me it's Percy."

"Can we get back to the Incredible Hulk and Thor?"

"I'm asking Michonne, I don't believe you!" Carl grumbled, diving for the radio in the centre console.

Ever swift, Rick grabbed the radio and moved it out of Carl's reach. "You're not using the radio for that, sit down. And put your seatbelt back on."

Revelling in every word said, Carrie listened to the debate continue, Carl now firmly denying everything Glenn had said. It was a welcome distraction, one that helped put her at ease for the rest of the journey. With her hands clenched into a fist in her lap, she tried not to watch the time passing, instead smiling and contributing to the debate as requested. Soon their convoy moved off the highway and onto some back roads, passing through a small town centre before travelling through the woods. As the convoy started slowing down, the nerves that Carrie had so far been managing came back in full force, and she felt the palms of her hands start to sweat, her heart starting to speed up a little. This reaction was unusual for her, having spent so many years in business learning how to hide physical reactions to nervousness.

As they slowed down to a near crawl, the convoy ahead began turning left, disappearing into the dense woods as the rest of them followed. Giving the truck ahead plenty of space, Rick hung back a little, his eyes scanning the road to check for Walkers.

"We're going to have to get rid of that sign," Glenn muttered.

His discussion with Carl had fallen silent, and he now gestured to a sign on the side of the road. Looking at it, Carrie tried to hide her smile as she saw the name Alexandria.

"Yes," Rick agreed darkly, following the others down the left turn. "We are."

Looking around, for she figured this was an area she was going to get to know very well in the future, Carrie observed the dense woods as the winding road took them closer and closer to Alexandria. She saw only a few houses and crossroads, nothing of great significance yet.

"Knock, knock," Abraham's voice came over the radio, signalling to Alexandria. "Daddy's home."

Carrie grinned in amusement. Abraham never failed to entertain.

"I said, Daddy's home," Abraham repeated impatiently. "Someone pour him a God damn drink."

There was a long pause before any sound came across the radio again, and Carrie could tell that Rick was waiting apprehensively. She saw the moment he was struck with relief, a new voice coming across the radio, slightly breathless.

"Did you say Daddy's home?" a man asked, his voice sounding young and hopeful.

"That's right," Abraham confirmed. "Daddy's home, and he's bringing five presents for his little Alex."

"Is Aidan there?" the man asked, apparently abandoning all type of code words. "Aidan, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm here, calm down," Aidan's voice came across the radio's next. "Get off your ass and come open the gate for your big brother."

"I am!" he insisted, sounding even more breathless now. "I'll be waiting. Is everyone back? Everyone's alright?"

"Of course we are. Now, could you organise that rent-a-crowd we discussed? The welcome home parade?"

"I dunno man, you know how it is here. We're busy people."

"Well on that note, we're expecting balloons."

"No balloons for you, big bother. You're grounded. Mom says you're a week past curfew."

Carrie laughed at this, listening to the banter of the two brothers. "That's Spencer?"

Rick nodded, he too managing a smile. "He's right…we're a week over due."

"We're five minutes away," Aidan said impatiently. "We want balloons! Oh, and tell Mom we've got a surprise for her."

Her heart shuddering, Carrie knew that she was the surprise, that no one in Alexandria was expecting a new face. With this thought, her nerves only grew even more. Once the initial celebrations of their family's safe return and their supplies had settled down, she was going to be the centre of attention. She had no idea how she was going to prepare herself for that, how she was going to cope with so many curious faces and questions. Having heard much about how innocent these people were, she suspected there was going to be a certain amount of gawking coming her way, especially if they came to learn anything about her back story.

At this, Carrie's stomach twisted with anxiety, once again thinking about her interview with Deanna. While she had been assured that her place within the community was certain already, that she wasn't required to prove herself, she'd still be interviewed upon arrival. Deanna would want to know about her story…her life both before the outbreak, and after. She'd ask how she had survived for so many months on her own, and given her somewhat sheltered lifestyle in Alexandria, Carrie wondered how well her technique of smearing decaying fleshed on her body would be received. Reflecting on what Rick had told her about these people, that they were too innocent for their own good, Carrie hoped that it wasn't true.

Faster than she was ready for, they were there. As Spencer's voice welcomed them home over the radios, Carrie tried to look ahead, but her view of what they were coming up on was obstructed by the other vehicles ahead. Excited tension filled their car, and glancing over at Rick, she noted how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel, that he was barely holding back his elation to finally be home. Feeling her gaze upon him, Rick looked at her and smiled, sharing her excitement. He held her gaze for a moment before pointing forward, and when she looked she was speechless with astonishment.

Barely twenty yards ahead of them was an unmissable sight, the twelve foot walls exactly as Aaron had described them. They loomed up upon them, and in seconds they were passing through, their car instantly greeting by a loud and excited crowd of people. Carrie's jaw dropped open at the sight of so many people, and she physically shrunk back in her seat as she looked at them all. Men and women stood on what must be a side walk as the five vehicles entered the walls, children holding balloons and welcome home signs and cheering as they drove in. Behind them, a large bed sheet with the words 'Welcome Home' painted in red was being strung up between two poles.

Rick pulled the car to a stop and killed the engine, and from then on things happened too quickly for Carrie to really process. Leaning in from the back, Glenn clapped Rick on the shoulder and thanked him gratefully, the two of them exchanging a brief hand shake that for now would count as a hug. With that done, Glenn practically fell out of the car and disappeared, no doubt running off to find his wife in the crowd. Carrie watched as everyone else departed their cars and looked around, hastily greeting the loved ones who had waited for their return without knowing for sure that it would happen. Overwhelmed, Carrie delayed getting out of the car, and she glanced beside her at Rick. He gave her a reassuring nod and then opened his mouth as if to say something, perhaps to say he'd be by her side, that he wouldn't let her be swarmed by curious enquiries…but something else caught his attention.

He seemed torn, and it didn't take Carrie long to see what it was. Approaching their car was a woman she could only presume to be Carol, but it was the fair haired baby asleep on her shoulder that held Rick's attention. Not wanting to make him wait, Carrie ushered Rick to go, and he seemed grateful for this. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he stepped out of the car and headed over to Carol, his body language indicating how hard he was trying not to break into a run. He lifted his daughter off Carol's shoulders and brought her to his chest, tenderly holding her in his arms as he kissed the crown of her head. Judith started to rouse, her face screwing up in confusion as to why she had been awoken unexpectedly.

"Carrie?"

Turning around, Carrie was startled to see that Carl was still in the car, that he was waiting with her for a moment. Giving him her attention, she waited as he started getting his crutches organised.

"Do you want some last minute advice?"

"Yes, please," she smiled, willing to take on anything he had to offer.

Carl just gestured towards the woman standing by Rick. "That's Carol. You should watch her."

"Why's that?"

Thinking about his choice of words, Carl carefully gave his advice. "Whatever you do here…make sure they underestimate you."

Breathing out slowly, Carrie nodded, but sought to clarify. "Why's that?" she repeated.

"You'll see why."

He departed without further comment, giving her only a reassuring nod before he too went straight to his sister, everyone around them giving cries of horror to see him on crutches. Having waited for as long as she could, Carrie braced herself and then went to open the door, her heart leaping when it opened of its own accord. She breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Michonne's friendly face, and she was grateful someone she felt comfortable with was there. At her encouragement, Carrie got out and took a brief look around. Behind the crowd of people she made out a row of brick town houses and solar panels, and the expansive space of nothing must be their lake.

"It's pretty overwhelming, isn't it?" Michonne commented gently, gesturing to the crowd and the walls.

Feeling as though there was a lump in her throat, Carrie managed only a nod of agreement, knowing that her voice would fail her if she tried to speak. To her great relief, the Alexandrian's seemed to keep their distance from her for now, though she could feel and see them gawking at her in surprise. But ever supportive, Michonne stayed by her side, forgoing the reunions with her friends and family that she surely wanted to have. Being attentive, Carrie listened as the residents were pointed out to her, paying attention to the names and faces as best she could, knowing that these people were hers now, that this was her community, her group.

The more she listened and took it all in, the harder it was for Carrie to keep herself together. As her eyes watered, she looked away and wished her heart would slow down, that it would descend from the base of her throat and back into her chest where it belonged. She was ready to burst into tears, to fall into a blubbering mess as the emotions tried to fight their way out of her. Understanding, Michonne supportively clapped her on the shoulder, and then asked her to look at her.

"The fight's over," she said firmly, squeezing her shoulder. "You're home now."

Clearing her throat, Carrie took a few deep breaths before raising her head again, smiling at Michonne and thanking her. Michonne knew what was going on in her head, she understood the impact of suddenly realising that the fight to keep surviving every day was done with. Taking a few more deep breaths, Carrie felt herself settling now, calming even more when she looked up again and saw that Rick was watching her. He still held Judith in his arms, stroking her blonde hair while Carl patiently awaited his turn with her. Watching Carrie, it seemed that he too understood what was going on in her head, because how could he not? Giving her a nod of reassurance, Rick let his gaze linger for one more moment before turning his attention back to his children. Passing Judith over to Carl, he turned his back and started greeting those around him.

"You ready for this?" Michonne asked, her voice light hearted and kind.

To her surprise, Carrie managed to emit a small laugh, for the question spoke to her on so many levels. Was she ready to put to rest the desire to lay down and die? Was she ready to meet new people? Was she ready to take the biggest chance of her life, and start living again? In the end, she found the words came out of her mouth without needing to think about it.

"I'm ready."

* * *

The relief of hearing Spencer's voice coming over the radio was utterly indescribable. Since before he had even left, Rick had been plagued by the thoughts of what he might come back to, of all the things that might happen in his absence. It wasn't easy for him to leave half his group behind, for him to leave Judith…it went against every instinct he knew, and yet he did it anyway, and in the back of his mind fear lingered. Fear that he would return to nothing, fear that what happened back in Alexandria was completely beyond the scope of his control. But the moment he heard Spencer's voice over the radio, picking up on the happiness and elation that his brother was returning, Rick knew everything was okay back there. Somehow before he even got there, he knew that all was well, this his group were still alive. He didn't need to see them himself…he just knew.

Driving through the gates was a bittersweet moment, one whose magnitude was not lost on him. When they'd departed, he had braced himself for the possibility that one or more of them would not be returning, that it might be himself or one of his group. The notion that he was in fact returning with more people than he had left with was beyond comprehension…he hadn't expected them all to survive.

Thinking on Carrie, he kept a close eye on her as they approached Alexandria, having noted that she was understandably nervous. She seemed to be paying close attention to the debate going on in the back seat, perhaps using that to her amusement in attempt to distract herself from what she was about to face. He remembered how he had felt the day they arrived in Alexandria, and he was glad that while she was nervous, she wasn't scared the way he was. It had been a fear of more than bringing his family somewhere that might not be safe…but the fear that it was indeed safe, because how the hell was he supposed to begin to comprehend that notion? So while Carrie was nervous, he was glad for her sake that she didn't have to be scared. She'd sent too long being scared, too long without hope.

He had every intention of staying right by her side when they got to Alexandria. Wanting to ensure that she didn't get swarmed by the curious Alexandrian's, his intention had been to linger in the car with her for a short while, to help brace her against what she was about to face. She'd have her interview with Deanna soon enough, and she'd likely need a friendly face to give her encouragement before she attended that. Yet, even as Rick decided he'd stay with her, he knew in the back of his mind that he wouldn't be able to…and he was right.

The moment he saw Judith, every instinct told him to run to her, to sweep her into his arms and not put her back down ever again. Thankfully, Carrie seemed to understand this need, and at her encouragement he abandoned her in the car and went to his daughter. Seeing that she was asleep against Carol's shoulder, Rick held himself back from rushing over, instead gently taking her and bringing her against his chest, his greeting to Carol a mere afterthought. Judith began crying as she awoke, confused and anxious as to why she had been so suddenly roused from her morning nap. As he comforted her, suddenly everything felt right in the world, like he'd gained his equilibrium.

"Hey, Judy Pie," he soothed her, not caring who heard the name he liked to call her.

Kissing the crown of her head, he stroked her hair as tears started rolling down her cheeks. It took a few moments for her to realise what was going on, to recognise the voice she heard and the arms that held her. She looked up at him in confusion, her brow furrowing as she blearily tried to make the connection. Talking to her again, he smiled as her eyes lit up and her pink lips curved into a smile, and this time it was he who was crying, not her. Wiping at his eyes before he made a spectacle of himself, Rick gratefully hugged Carol and then looked around, kissing Judith's forehead as he took stock of all the people there. Picking out the key faces, he reassured himself that all the people he had left behind were still there, Maggie and Tara now giving horrified cries when they saw Carl on crutches.

"Rick," Carol said urgently, looking around with a panicked expression. "Rick, where's Daryl? Is he here?"

"He's here," he said, looking around and then pointing him out for her.

In typical fashion, Daryl had opened the back of the truck to check on Merle's motorcycle, neglecting his reunion with Carol in the process. Rick watched in amusement as Carol marched over and impatiently got his attention, scolding him for making her worry. Flicking his cigarette to the ground, he shrugged apologetically before embracing her, much to the surprise of some Alexandrian's who happened to be watching. Rick's attention being clamoured for, he turned back to Judith and smiled at the way she was trying to grasp his facial hair. It wasn't long enough for the type of full on tug she used to wake him up with when they were on the road, but she tried nonetheless, eventually giving up and turning her attention to Carl. Stroking her hair while she cooed at her brother, Rick remembered the other person he was supposed to be paying attention to, and he looked back at the Hyundai.

He was relieved to see that Michonne was by Carrie's side, her hand resting supportively on her shoulder. Carrie looked as though she was on the verge of tears, the magnitude of finally arriving somewhere safe taking its toll on her. She was looking at the ground, one hand pushing her loose hair behind her ears before she finally looked up at Michonne. Her smile was strained, and her emotions were written all over her face. In that moment Rick wished he could go to her, that he could embrace her and bring her comfort in a way she probably needed. But he knew he couldn't, and instead settled for giving her a brief nod of reassurance when she eventually looked over at him. They looked at each other for a long moment, and he could tell even from a distance how grateful she was for this.

Later there would be time for them to talk, but for now he had other responsibilities to attend to first. Finally handing Judith over to Carl, he turned away from Carrie and greeted the rest of his family, hugging Tara and Maggie in turn before looking around for Sasha, pleased to find her talking to Rosita not far away. Taking his time, he looked around and allowed himself to enjoy the apparent festivities, taking note of the hand made signs the children had made and the balloons that had been hastily blown up. Judging by the large Welcome Home sign strung up in front of the lake, they'd been well prepared for their imminent arrival.

As he anticipated, it wasn't long before Deanna made her way over to him, and Rick mentally braced himself. He knew what she'd be asking about…there wouldn't have been time for Aidan to share what had happened between the two of them, and so that left only the unexpected arrival of Carrie. Happy holding Judith in his arms again, he habitually looked around for Carl and found him talking to Ron. It felt strange that he no longer needed to make sure his son was within sight at all times, that they were all safe again. He knew it would take some time for him to get used to that.

"Deanna," he greeted her.

"Rick," she said in return, giving him that knowing smile that said a great deal without words. "I see you've brought me someone."

"I have," he nodded, glancing over at Carrie. She and Michonne were talking to Reg now, Carrie clearly at ease with his friendly nature.

Deanna turned and echoed Rick's stance, watching Carrie from a distance. "Given that she's here, I take it she has your approval."

"She does."

"And to think you told me not to open the gates anymore." She looked up at him as he said this, giving him that smile once again.

"I did."

"Are you going to talk in monosyllables all day?"

Rick paused before answering, and he looked at Judith affectionately. "It's good to be back," he finally answered, speaking honestly.

"I'll bet. I expect you had a long, hard journey."

"We did," he agreed, his mind struggling to think back on it all. Their departure almost three weeks ago was but a distance memory. "We brought back a lot of supplies. Generators, food, weapons, a couple of luxuries. Pete will be happy, there's plenty of medical supplies and medicines."

"That's incredible, Rick," Deanna praised, turning on her heel and looking at the military truck, the new truck and the delivery van. "What you've achieved…Aidan and Nicholas couldn't have done that without your group leading them. Please know that I acknowledge that."

"Thank you," he said, not surprised she acknowledged this. Deanna had always been one for calling things as she saw it.

"We'll catch up properly another time," Deanna told him, patting him on the arm as she left. "But for now, I'll leave you to your family."

Getting back to everyone else, he smiled as he greeted the rest of the community, unwilling to give up his hold of Judith just yet. With her happily perched on his side, he watched as Olivia stood at the back of the open truck, gaping at everything they had crammed in there. Already he was mentally planning what they would unpack first, knowing they needed to prioritise the plants in the greenhouses on the back of the military truck. But first perhaps a shower, followed by food and coffee…there was nothing on the trucks that couldn't wait a few more hours to be unpacked. Thinking on that, he reminded himself about the listening device he still carried in his pocket, knowing he would need to speak to Maggie straight away.

"Rick," Daryl grunted, gesturing to behind him.

Looking around in concern, Rick's eyes narrowed in frustration when he saw what Daryl was indicating to. Deanna and Carrie were alone now, the two women heading down up the road and away from the welcome party. Michonne, who up until then had been by Carrie's side, was returning to the group, and she gave Rick a shrug when she noticed him watching. He immediately felt annoyed with Deanna…why did she have to conduct Carrie's interview now? There was no urgency about it, there was nothing at stake here. Surely she'd want to properly catch up with her son.

"Here, take her," he hastily said, lumping Judith into Daryl's arms.

"Hey, Ass Kicker," he greeted, happily taking her. "We bought you presents."

Without another thought, Rick slipped through the crowd and hastened to catch up with Carrie and Deanna, ignoring the knowing smile Michonne gave him as he went past. Though he knew she could hold her own, Rick felt increasingly protective of Carrie, and a part of him wanted to intrude on the interview, to be by her side as though Deanna needed his supervision. While he knew this was irrational, at the same time he understood his need to be protective of her…he had brought her in her, and already she looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Carrie!" he called out to her, rushing to catch her. She looked around in surprise, her brow furrowing to see him rushing over. As she and Deanna both slowed to a stop, Rick caught up to them and felt a flicker of uncertainty…he had no idea what he was going to say, no idea why he had stopped them. "Could we have a minute?"

Carrie looked to Deanna, who nodded politely. "Of course. I'll go on ahead…Rick, would you walk Carrie up to my home when you're done?"

"Sure."

Without further fuss, Deanna smiled kindly at Carrie and then continued up the street, leaving the two of them in privacy. There was a long pause in which they just looked at each other, and when the silence grew uncomfortable, Carrie looked away and let her eyes roam over the large wall to her left, admiring it.

"You have no idea why you stopped me, do you?" she questioned, looking back at him.

Laughing shortly, Rick nodded in agreement. "I'm figuring it out…"

Giving him a wry smile, Carrie looked down at herself, brushing her loose hair behind her ears. "Do I look presentable for my interview?"

Echoing her smile, Rick looked her up and down. Dried mud was smeared all over the front of her jeans, complemented by the blood spatter across her neck and Maggie's light brown jacket. "You look a damn sight better than I did."

There was an awkward pause now, and Rick quickly scrambled to say something.

"This interview…you don't have to tell Deanna anything you don't want to."

"I won't tell her about us."

He was taken aback for a moment. "No, I meant about the things you've had to do…people you've killed and why. You don't have to tell her that."

"What if she asks me?"

"She might, but you don't owe her an answer. I ask those questions, not her. You don't owe her anything, alright?"

Carrie just nodded. "What about you? Did you tell her the things you've done?"

"No. She knows I've done things, but I've never laid it out for her."

"Thank you," she said quietly, taking it all in.

They started heading up the street now, passing the other townhouses on their way to Deanna's. Walking a little slower than necessary, he observed the way Carrie looked at the nearby walls, both admiring and critiquing them. Moments later they reached the last town house, and Rick reluctantly slowed to a stop, indicating that they were here.

"Carl gave me some advice," she said quietly, the two of them climbing the steps and then lingering in the threshold of the open door.

"Oh?"

She nodded. "He told me to make sure they underestimate me."

"That's good advice," he told her. "You should take it."

There was a pause now, and he could tell that she was nervous, seeing the way her eyes kept darting to the open door. Her hands were in her pockets, her boot restlessly pawing at the ground as they both waited, not sure of what else needed to be said, but knowing that there was something.

"Rick, I just want to tha-"

"Don't," he cut her off, knowing what she was going to say. He didn't want her thanks.

"You saved my life, more than once," she continued, perhaps feeling as though she needed to vocalise her gratitude for him. "You brought me here. At least let me say thank you."

He shook his head. "You're one of us. My group have saved my life before…my group brought me here too."

"I thought you brought them here?" she enquired, curious for his answer.

He shook his head again. "No, it was them who brought me."

"It doesn't matter," she said patiently. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her loose hair behind her ear yet again. "Thank you," she said emphatically.

Accepting her need to say it, he finally let her. "You're welcome."

Glad it had been said, Carrie looked back into the house again, her jaw flexing as she mentally prepared herself for what she needed to do inside. "I should get in there," she said offhandedly.

"Yes," he agreed. Encouraging her to go in, he moved down onto a lower step, kindly ushering her forward. "Good luck."

"Thanks," she muttered, going forward and taking a step inside. She lingered for a moment before turning back to him, her hand resting on the door knob. "I'll see you around," she smiled.

"See you."

He turned and left before he could say anything else, before he could delay her interview any longer. Descending the stairs and turning left to go up the street, Rick looked up into the sky and exalted at how clear it was, admiring the warm sun that was welcoming his group home. He suddenly remembered something Glenn had said to him the first night of their return to the prison, having noted that Rick didn't yet call Alexandria home. He supposed it just hadn't felt that way yet, and to a certain extent it still didn't. He was still an outsider here…the people had not accepted him they way they needed to, they hadn't accepted the qualities he and his group would use to protect them all.

But today, it felt a little different here. After almost three weeks away, he had of course developed a certain gratitude for the luxuries Alexandria afford his family, the least of which was the increased safety and ability to go about their lives again. Returning to the group, he stopped in the crossroads by the lake, standing on the corner opposite Jessie's house as he looked down at the five vehicles his group had returned with. It was an incredible feat that not only had he safely returned his whole group, but that those he had left behind were still waiting for them. Feeling an immense appreciation for what had been afforded to him, he looked away from his group and turned down the street.

Rick finally began to feel as though he had was home.

* * *

Preview of the sequel - The New Resident

Standing in the threshold of Deanna Monroe's townhouse, Carrie took a moment to brace herself before going in, knowing that the first impression she made would say a lot. Rick had just left, and despite Deanna's warm nature, Carrie couldn't help but feel rather alone. She wished that Rick had come in with her, that Michonne hadn't believed her when she said she'd be okay on her own. Standing in the hallway, Carrie listened to the sound of a kettle boiling, and it took all her courage to clear her throat and speak.

"Deanna?"

She waited nervously as she heard footsteps, and taking advantage of her last few moments alone, she forcefully told herself to snap out of it. Years ago she had learnt how to hide the physical manifestations of her nerves, her colleagues and mentors teaching her how to carry herself with confidence and poise. Two years ago the thought of being interviewed for a position wouldn't have perturbed her in the slightest. Lacking confidence and showing how nervous she felt was something new to her these days.

"Carrie," Deanna greeted her warmly, appearing in the hallway. "Welcome. Come on in."

Deanna had the distinct ability to put someone at ease, her nature and intensity of her smile making Carrie feel as though she had the woman's entire attention. Her nerves beginning to recede, she came forward at Deanna's encouragement and followed her through the living and dining room. Walking slowly, she looked around in curiosity, amazed that everything seemed so…homely. The townhouse was nicely decorated and comfortably furnished, and it was clearly someone's home, not a space they simply occupied. That was a strange concept for Carrie to consider…she hadn't had a home for a long time. She remembered her Upper West Side apartment as though she'd been there only that morning. It was practically a show home, perfectly neat and organised because she was hardly ever there.

Looking around, Carrie felt like there was something strange about this townhouse, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Slowly beginning to put the pieces together, she kicked herself when she realised that what was throwing her off was the electricity…she'd known about the solar panels in advance of her arrival, and yet it was disconcerting to see that the lights in the kitchen were on, that the LCD screen on a stereo player above the fireplace was illuminated. It was all very strange to see, and it made her feel like she was in another realm, that neither she nor her surroundings really belonged here. Looking around some more, her heart skipped a beat when she noticed that a video camera had been set up on a tripod, pointing directly to a lone armchair in front of the windows.

"I'm going to start with a very important question," Deanna began, heading into the kitchen.

Feeling the pressure of the sudden question, Carrie followed her in and prepared herself.

"Have you eaten today?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, much to Deanna's amusement. That was not the question she had been expecting.

"It doesn't escape my attention that living out there, food can be difficult to come by."

She questioned whether Deanna really knew how difficult food was to come by. "I've eaten," she said softly, trying to find her voice. Their meagre breakfast had been hours ago, but she didn't think she had it in her to stomach eating anything right now. "Thank you."

"Well can I get you something to drink?" Deanna offered next, sounding concerned. "I'm making myself tea, but I also have coffee or juice. There's soda too, or water of course."

The question felt harder to answer than it should. "Water would be nice, please," she said, latching onto the familiar.

"Cold, or tepid?"

Again, Carrie struggled to answer. There was an option…she had an option of which water she wanted. With startling clarity, she remembered the half bottle of murky brown water she had carried three weeks ago, that despite its filth it had tasted like liquid gold. She remembered licking trees and leaves to collect the morning dew, literally laying down in puddles to take as much moisture as she could get, barely keeping herself alive. And now she had the option of how she wanted her water served to her? It seemed ridiculous…excessive.

"Cold, please."

In astonishment, she watched as Deanna fetched a clean glass and then opened the refrigerator, allowing Carrie a glimpse at the food inside. Taking a jug out of the door, she poured the glass of water and then put it back and closed the door. Still amazed, she looked at the glass of crystal clear water when Deanna gave it to her, only just remembering to thank her for it. She was almost hesitant to pick it up, part of her still believing that it wasn't real, that this was all a joke, a well crafted illusion. But when she did pick it up, there was no mistaking that it was real…that it was indeed cold.

She gratefully sipped at the water and watched Deanna from the corner of her eye. Pouring herself a cup of tea and then leaving it to brew, she refilled the kittle and returned it to the cradle, and Carrie's eyes were now fixed on the kitchen tap. Water had just flowed from that tap…she'd seen it with her own eyes, and here Deanna was, acting as though it wasn't incredible. Getting herself together, Carrie knew that to Deanna, it was completely normal. She'd been in Alexandria from the very start. Rick was right…Carrie had known her all of three minutes, and she already knew that Deanna had little knowledge of the world outside. This understanding made Carrie want to shout and scream at her, to take her by the shoulders and shake the knowledge into her.

Given that Deanna had only welcomed her into her home, offered her food and gave her water, this reaction was a little extreme.

"This must feel very strange for you?" Deanna commented perceptively.

Carrie just nodded, not knowing what to say.

"It's strange for every newcomer," she said kindly, throwing her teabag in a small compost bin before adding a little cold water. There was a short pause, and she looked at Carrie with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. "Shall we get started?"

* * *

A/N Wow, that concludes The Stray Passenger! Thank you all so much for your readership and your reviews, particularly those regular reviewers who keep me up to date on how they're enjoying the story.

I'd like to extend the biggest round of applause to AngieB/angelcat70. She has been (and still is) an absolutely incredible beta to work it. Not only does she painstakingly edit the more poorly written aspects of my work, but her help with the plot, character development and ideas has been incredible, particularly so for The New Resident. Angie is the MVP of this story, and I'm very grateful for her help, enthusiasm and frequent LOL moments.

This conclusion only brings us to the next story, titled The New Resident. The first chapter will be posted next week, so either keep an eye out for the title, or sign up to author alerts to get the notification. The New Resident will be a change of pace from the supply run to Georgia, a much welcomed change of pace for people like Rick and Carrie. They're going to be settling back into life in Alexandria, and Carrie's going to be focused on finding her place, on where she fits in. The burgeoning relationship between Rick and Carrie will of course be a focus, there'll be plenty of ups and downs for this couple, but in the end it will be worth it. This story will also dip in and out of the final half of season 5B, and I'm taking creative liberty with the story line. I think you'll enjoy it, and I'm very, very excited for you to read.


End file.
